Ducktober 2018
by Rockport268
Summary: A collection of short one-shots written for Fictober. This year's prompt list is whump-themed, but not all one-shots will be whump. Most (but not all) will be Lena-centric.
1. Control

**Author's Note: The list of prompts I'm using can be found here: radarsteddybear . tumblr post / 169006603389 / whumpreads-i-dont-draw-but-ive-been-thinking (remove the spaces). Even though it is a whump prompt list, not all of the one-shots are going to end up being whump. Nothing is going to get too dark-I'll only go so far with a kids' cartoon like DuckTales ^_^ To that effect, I might end up switching out a few of the prompts if I can't figure out how to do them without crossing that line-we'll see when we get there.**

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 ** _Control_**

 _Prompt: On Their Knees_

Lena sat on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach keeping her from falling asleep. Still, it was better than the nauseating, gut-clenching feeling of Aunt Magica taking over her mind and body during the day. Lena dreaded the morning when it would happen once again.

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered into the darkness.

Lena could have sworn that the room was getting darker. She stared at the wall, trying to decide if her eyes were playing tricks on her, or...well. She slowly looked towards the right to see if the whole room was getting darker-maybe the moon was hiding behind a cloud?-but no. It wasn't.

Aw, shoot.

"Don't want to do this anymore?" Two gleaming red eyes cut through the darkness as a familiar shadow took shape.

Lena hugged her knees tighter. "I-I didn't mean-"

"Oh, Lena." The shadow swooped around to the opposite wall. "You do know you don't have much of a choice, don't you?"

Aunt Magica raised a shadowy hand, and Lena felt her blanket fall away as she rose off the bed.

"No, please! I'm sorry!" Lena said, the words coming out small and weak.

Magica moved her hand, and Lena's body involuntarily followed until she was floating three feet off the ground instead of one foot off her bed.

"Are you now, though?" Magica asked. She pushed her hand down and Lena's body slammed onto the floor.

Lena tried to focus on her breathing as the hard floor pressed against her hands and knees.

"See, if you really were, I wouldn't have to take over your body to make sure that things actually get done."

With another wave of her hand, Lena's head was wrenched up so that she was forced to look at her.

"Then again, I must say I quite enjoy it." Magica's shadow oozed across the floor and engulfed her body. Lena felt a chill as the shadow seeped into her skin.

"Ah, yes," Aunt Magica's voice came through Lena's beak. "I love having a corporeal form again." She ran across the room, jumping from bed to table to floor. "So young and agile. But unfortunately, it needs to sleep." Inky shadows filled Lena's eyes before melting out of them like streams of blood, leaving her gasping and shaking. "So go to sleep."

Magica's shadow faded away, and Lena was left alone, shivering in the darkness.

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	2. Captured

**_Captured_**

 _Prompt: Bag Over Head_

Louie ran through the dimly lit halls. His heart pounded in his ears in time with his feet slapping against the carpeted stone floor. Nowhere was safe. The enemy lurked behind every corner. They'd already gotten Huey and Dewey. Louie had to get away so he could figure out a way to rescue them.

Or he could just cut and run. Huey was smart enough to get them out of there, right? Right. And besides, Louie would be more of a liability than anything else. Sure, he could lie his face off if need be, but somehow he didn't think that particular skill would be very helpful with the people they were working with.

Louie felt something _whoosh_ by his ear. He skidded to a stop and looked around frantically for the source. Suddenly, a bag was pulled over his head and the world went dark.

"Hey! Let me out!" Louie said, squirming. But some sort of rope was being tied around his wrists and ankles, holding him fast. "Let me-whoa!" Louie lost his balance and, unable to catch himself, he fell flat on his face. That was going to leave a bruise.

He heard some whispering outside the sack.

"You'll pay for this!" he yelled, struggling to right himself.

Two sets of hands grabbed him by the ankles and the head and hoisted him up. Panic started to rise in his throat. The world felt awfully small when you had a dark, itchy bag over your head.

"Seriously, let me out!" Louie yelped, twisting and wriggling in a frantic attempt to get free. He could feel his captors starting to move, taking him to who knew where.

"Hey, quit it!" a voice said, muffled by the fabric surrounding his head. "You're going to make us drop you!"

"Make you drop me?" Louie said, voice cracking. "Nobody's making you pick me up in the first place!"

After a few more minutes of bumpy running, Louie's captors stopped. They gently lowered him down amid cries of "Watch it, _watch it!_ " before dropping him the last inch or two with an abrupt _thud_.

Louie started to squirm again, trying to worm his way out of his kidnappers' grasp.

"Oh, no, you don't." A set of hands grabbed his ankles and dragged him back.

"Ow, ow, hey! You're giving me rug burn!" Louie complained.

"Sorry," the owner of those hands said. The kidnappers sat him up and untied his wrists, holding tightly as they re-tied them around some sort of a pillar or post. After testing the strength of the knots, they whipped the bag off of his head, leaving him blinking in the bright light.

"They got you, too, huh?" Dewey asked next to him.

"Yep."

"I can't figure out where we went wrong…" Huey muttered from Louie's other side.

"I'm sorry, guys. I really blew it, didn't I?"

"Nah, it's fine. Besides, Huey still needs to earn his escape room badge. This'll give him some practice."

"For the last time, there is no escape room badge," Huey said.

"There is no escape room badge _yet_ ," Dewey said. "Anyway, I think if I just…"

"Ow, hey! That's my tail!" Louie said.

"Are you sure? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure that's the knot…"

"No, that is definitely my tail!"

"Quit it! Help me get my Junior Woodchucks' Guidebook out of my hat," Huey said.

"What, you're going to _read_ our way out?"

"How are we supposed to help you, anyway? We can't exactly give you a hand."

"Got it!" Huey said triumphantly. "Now if I can just…"

"I think escaping is on page 392," Louie said.

"No, no, no, you want escape rooms, page 1094," Dewey said.

"There's no way the Guidebook has a thousand pages," Louie said.

"3,280," Huey said absently.

Louie heard a thud. The three ducklings were silent.

"I dropped it," Huey finally said.

"Oh, boo hoo. It's not like it would have helped," Louie said.

"Page 479 has a serrated blade that can be used to cut rope, leather, small sticks, and submarine sandwiches," Huey recited despondently.

"Wait, really?" Louie said at the same time that Dewey said, "Oh, cool!"

"Ready to give up, boys?" Webby asked from the doorway.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Sure."

"Yep."

Lena smirked next to her. "I told you we'd win."

"Best two out of three?" Huey said.

Louie groaned. "Nope. I'm out."

"Aw, come on!"

"No fair!"

"How is it not fair? It's not like I was any help anyway!"

"You _were_ the last one of us to get captured," Huey pointed out while Webby started to untie their ropes.

"Probably because they knew I was the least threatening of us," Louie said.

"Yeah, if it doesn't involve money or treasure, he's pretty much useless," Lena said.

"Sounds about right," Louie said with a shrug.

"Not helping!" Huey said.

"Anyway, I'm going to go watch some _Ottoman Empire_ and see if we have any Pep." Louie gave sort of a mock salute. "See ya." And with that, he left the room and headed toward the giant TV and the refrigerator.

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 **Please review!**


	3. Confined

**_Confined_**

 _Prompt: Jail Cell_

 _"Help me get my family back, and you'll have a place in it."_

The words echoed in Lena's head, swirling through the thick haze that separated the shadow realm from the corporeal one. They were meaningless now.

Lena watched through a gauzy curtain as Magica wreaked havoc over Duckburg. It was as if she were half asleep-it didn't even feel real. She kept having to remind herself that it was, and even then she couldn't muster up the strength or willpower to try to do anything about it.

Not that she could have. She was just a shadow.

Sure, Magica had been able to do things from her prison. She'd been able to talk to Lena, stretch herself into grotesque shapes to illustrate her thoughts and ideas, even do the odd bit of magic, especially at the end. But Magica was a sorceress with decades of experience. Lena was just a shadow with fifteen short years of occasional practice using a magical talisman that she no longer had access to.

She hadn't even been able to save Mr. McDuck from getting sucked into the dime.

So much of this was her fault. If she hadn't listened to Magica. If she hadn't befriended Webby. If she hadn't kept sleeping over in Scrooge's giant mansion. If she hadn't kept Magica a secret. If she hadn't allowed Magica to possess her. If, if, if. Well, she had. There was no changing that now.

 _"Help me get my family back, and you'll have a place in it."_

Even if she did get out of the shadow realm, would there still be a place for her in Mr. McDuck's family? She'd just be a constant reminder of Magica, of all this pain and suffering and destruction. Lena certainly wouldn't want herself around. Her memories, the knowledge of what happened, what she _did_ -that was more than enough.

"Is this your favorite treasure? Oh, too bad. Now it's ice cream." Magica's voice cut through the fog, though it still sounded far away. The glee in her voice made Lena feel almost queasy. Well, as queasy as a shadow could be.

"Oh, looks like your family's coming to play."

 _Webby_.

With a surge of anger-fueled strength, Lena rebelled, slamming herself against the walls of her jail cell. But nothing budged.

It she had still been in the corporeal world, she would be panting heavily, catching her breath. But though shadows didn't need to breathe, she felt weak and drained, almost like she had just sprinted across McDuck Manor.

Above her, Magica was yelling out sports terms and throwing bolts of magical energy this way and that. All Lena could do was hope, hope, _hope_ that nobody was getting hurt.

 _"Help me get my family back, and you'll have a place in it."_

Was that really a promise that Mr. McDuck could keep? Sure, he was the oldest member of the family-by far-but he didn't exactly seem to have a good history of agreeing with his relatives. Would _they_ have accepted her into their family? Lena knew she could count on Webby-or at least, until Webby learned the truth about who Lena was-but Webby wasn't even related to the old man. The triplets could easily be persuaded, probably, especially with Mr. McDuck and Webby on her side, but Donald? The guy who had cut ties with Scrooge McDuck and all of his money for ten years?

Doubtful.

"Oh, look." Magica's voice sliced into her thoughts. " _Children._ "

No.

No, no, no.

A pink energy bubble, Magica's favorite form of transportation when she wasn't stuck being a shadow, faded from Lena's view as the light coming off of it blotted her out of existence. Lena was gone only a minute before the magical sphere disappeared, leaving her right underneath her aunt and with a very poor view of what was going on. As she got her bearings, she could faintly hear banter between Magica and one of the kids. Definitely not Webby, but which triplet, she couldn't tell.

And then Magica started firing bolts of magic again.

Panic blossomed in Lena's chest, pressing down harder and harder until Lena felt she would drown without a gulp of air, regardless of the fact that shadows didn't breathe.

Ok. Lena had to get it together. If she could focus hard enough, maybe she could manage to do something.

But focusing was awfully hard when your friends were probably _dying_ all around you.

Lena knew Magica's power. What if she made then all her slaves? What if she turned them all into shadows? What if she turned them to stone, or snakes, or frogs, or-

The sound of breaking glass broke through Lena's thoughts.

What if she turned them to glass and then _shattered_ them?

What if Magica didn't bother turning them into anything and just hurt them instead? Magic was very hot; Lena felt phantom pains tingle through phantom hands at the memory. What if she sliced through their limbs? What if she buried them in coins? What if she flung them through the air into the walls or the ocean or each other-

"Hi-yah!"

That was Webby's voice. Lena felt a small measure of relief trickle through her consciousness.

"Ooh, someone's mad," Magica said. Lena strained her ears, pouring all of her focus into hearing what was going on.

"I just got a family. I thought I had a best friend in Lena. But you took that all away. You are not. A. Nice. Person!"

Well, that was the understatement of the century.

The corporeal world began to fade away as Magica created another bubble, this time as a shield. And then everything whited out entirely when Magica encased herself in an aura of magic.

But Lena still heard the sickening thud of Magica's staff making contact with Webby's small body, and the jingle of gold coins as she slid through them.

"Lena couldn't be your friend because she was never real!" Magica said, sadistic delight dripping from her words. Lena wanted to scream, to cry, to break free of the bonds that held her to the shadow realm. _She was real._ She had _always_ been real. And she was _still_ real. She may have been stuck in the prison that was the shadow realm, but she was _still there._

"I don't believe you," she faintly heard Webby say.

Another yell and a thud, softer this time, definitely one of the boys.

"You had sleepovers with a shadow. You gave it a friendship bracelet. Honestly, it's embarrassing how pathetic you were. Here, let me put you out of your misery!"

 _No!_ The word was so loud in her head that Lena could have sworn she had said it out loud. The panic that had been consuming her evaporated, and she felt magic-a different magic, a familiar magic-start to reach her form. She poured all of her energy, all of her power, all of her friendship into it, shielding Webby from Magica's dark powers.

Suddenly, it was as if the walls confining her to the shadow realm had split open. Lena reached out and grabbed Magica's shadow, giving herself a form. Aunt Magica gasped as she saw Lena floating next to her.

"Get away from my best friend, Aunt Magica!" Lena shouted, lunging at the woman she'd been tethered to for the last fifteen years. She tackled her, grabbing for the staff to rid her of her power.

"'Aunt?' You're even worse than her! You aren't my family! You are nothing!" Magica stabbed her staff into Lena's stomach and discharged her magic. Lena screamed as she felt herself evaporate into thin air, dimly aware of Webby yelling right alongside her.

"Lena's...gone."

The words were distant again, but not because they were being filtered through the haze of the shadow realm.

"But...she sacrificed herself. To save you," she heard Huey say.

"Huh. I guess she really was my best friend."

Lena felt herself smile.

"She'll always be with you," Dewey said, and Webby could feel the warmth and love of a group hug.

Lena watched as Webby tied the friendship bracelet back onto her wrist. The blue kid was right. It wasn't ideal-she'd much rather go back to being a person again-but it was infinitely better than being trapped in the jail cell that was being Magica De Spell's shadow.

Besides, this was one way to join Scrooge McDuck's family.

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 **Please review!**


	4. Rope

**_Rope_**

 _Prompt: Noose_

Lena found herself somewhere wide open, crouched in a defensive stance. Wind blew around her, rustling the grass below her and pushing her hair into her eyes. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she could hardly hear anything else. She seemed to be utterly alone, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was there.

"Lena…"

Lena whirled around, trying to find the source of the sound. It had been quiet, so quiet, as if had been floating on the breeze. Maybe it had just been the wind whistling as it made its way through the trees. Yeah, that made sense. Especially with the pounding in her ears-so loud now that she could _feel_ it-there was no way that anyone had actually-

"Lena…"

Lena whirled around again. She still couldn't see anyone-or anything-that could have made the sound.

"Where-where are you?" Lena said, voice cracking. "What do you want?"

"You've failed me, Lena," the voice said, more defined now.

"Who-" Lena swallowed. "Who are you?"

"I asked for one simple favor…." A shape began to take form, floating above the trees.

"No," Lena said, eyes widening.

"My only family…"

Lena turned around and began to run, but the shape was there, too, solidifying into something terrifyingly familiar.

"Was being free from my prison really too much to ask?"

"Leave me alone!" Lena yelled. She turned to the right and kept running, but Magica was still there, floating just above her line of vision. Lena reached for the amulet she wore around her neck, but it wasn't there.

"No, I don't think so," Magica said. She raised her staff and shot a bolt of magic right into Lena's path, where it burst into flames. Lena changed directions once again, and this time Magica finally stayed put behind her.

"All I wanted was revenge." Magica shot another bolt of magic with a _zap_. Lena turned sharply to the left. "Revenge for fifteen long years stuck as a shadow."

Lena looked behind her; Magica wasn't getting any farther away.

"I had it all. The money bin." _Zap_. "The dime." _Zap_. "An entire shadow army." _Zap_. "And I was so close to getting those annoying brats you still think are your friends." Magica shot one last bolt of magic, and Lena found herself trapped in a circle of purple flames.

Magica floated down so that she was mere inches from the ground. She leaned in close to Lena, who fell to the ground in a mad scramble to stay out of her reach.

"Do you know what happens when people double-cross me?"

Lena found herself frozen in fear, unable to answer.

Magica wordlessly pulled out a piece of rope. The end was looped over itself and tied in an elaborate knot. Living for fifteen years with Magica De Spell as her shadow had taught her a lot about killing people, and hanging had been one of her prefered daydreams regarding Scrooge McDuck.

"No! Please! I'm sorry!" Lena said.

Magica stroked the rope with a fingernail. "I never thought I'd use this on my own shadow," she mused. "But at least I get to use it on _somebody._ "

Magica lunged out at Lena. Lena threw her arms over her face and shut her eyes. She felt the rope land around her neck and held her breath, waiting for it to tighten…

"Lena! Lena, wake up!"

And suddenly Lena was back in her bedroom.

She sat up and got to her knees. She felt mattress underneath her and ran her hands up her body, making sure everything was real. She gently pressed her palms around her throat, trying to erase the lingering feeling of the rope.

"Are you ok?" Webby was asking next to the bed. "I could hear you from next door."

Lena took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Webby asked. "Because if you're not, I could stay here the rest of the night, or you could come to my room."

Lena gave Webby a shaky smile. "I think I'd like that."

"Awesome!" Webby shouted, and then immediately clamped her hands over her beak because it was-Lena checked her alarm clock-3:30 in the morning.

"It'll be like a sleepover!" Webby said, much more quietly now. "We can braid each other's hair, and gossip about boys-"

"What boys?" Lena asked. "All we have are those dorky triplets who live down the hall. Not a lot to gossip about there."

"We could talk about the Beagle Boys. Or Flintheart Glomgold. Or Arpin Lusene. Or John D. Rockerduck. Or-"

Lena laughed. "Ok, ok." She affected a British accent. "Shall we be off, Englabeth?"

"Oh, indubitably, Brittania." Webby took Lena by the hand, and together they went to Webby's room, where they would set up the spare sleeping bag Webby had for whatever reason (Lena had never asked) and they would stay up and chat about Mr. McDuck's enemies and whatever else came to mind until Lena could fall back asleep.

Yeah. This family was _definitely_ an upgrade from the old one.

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 **Please review!**


	5. Rock Climbing

**_Rock Climbing_**

 _Prompt: Rock Climbing_

Lena pushed herself up from the floor, rubble all around her. Her head was fuzzy, and she was having trouble remembering where she was or what was going on.

"Lena! Lena, can you hear me?"

"What-" she began.

"Lena! Can you hear me?" the same voice repeated.

Lena pressed her hand against her head where it hurt the most and quickly drew it away when she felt something wet.

Red.

"Lena!"

"Y-yeah?" she said as loudly as her voice would allow.

"Lena, is that you?"

"Yeah, I'm here!" she said, stronger now. Lena started to get to her feet, but the world began to tilt and sway sickeningly, so she decided to crawl instead, making her way over to the rock wall.

"Good!" Mr. McDuck said.

"Where are you?" Lena said. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"I'm right next door to ye, lassie. Just on the other side of the pile of rocks."

Lena reached out and touched the pile. It just about reached to the ceiling, with only a small gap left at the top.

Suddenly, there was a rumble like thunder, and the room began to shake. Lena cried out, shielding her head as some of the rocks from the pile shifted and fell.

"Lena! Are you ok, lass?" Mr. McDuck called once the shaking stopped.

"What's going on?" Lena said, fear evident in her voice. "What's happening?"

"Ol' Flinty got wind that we were coming this way and decided to try to blast me out," Mr. McDuck said. "Instead he caused a blastid cave-in."

The world shook again, harder this time, and dust and rubble trickled down from the ceiling.

"How do we make him stop?" Lena said.

"What we need to do is get ourselves out," Mr. McDuck said. "If that blasted wanna-be would just give it a rest for a few minutes, you might be able to climb out of that passage…"

Lena eyed the pile of rubble. In her fifteen years tethered to Magica, she'd done a _lot_ worse.

"I can do it," she said.

"Absolutely not!" Mr. McDuck said.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Lena said. She stood up-this time the world was kind enough to stay still-and started testing the stability of the rock pile.

"I've been trying to amplify the signal of my satellite phone"-a few rocks fell with a clatter-" _What do you think you're doing?"_

Lena continued to climb, slowly and carefully, making sure to test each rock before putting any weight on it. "I'm getting myself out of here."

"You get down right now!" Mr. McDuck said. Another explosion shook the cavern, dislodging the rocks Lena was holding on to. She cried out as she fell, landing solidly on her feet.

"Lena! Are you alright?" Mr. McDuck said.

"I'm fine," Lena said, brushing herself off. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and started to climb again.

"You see now why it's too dangerous to try to climb out?"

Lena didn't answer, keeping her attention focused on climbing.

"Lena?"

She still didn't answer.

"You're climbing out anyway, aren't you?"

Lena focused on her breathing and the rough feeling of the rocks underneath her hands. She reached up and grabbed a loose rock, and it fell with a series of clinks.

"Lena…"

Lena popped her head over the top of the rock pile. "Yeah?"

Exasperated, Mr. McDuck buried his face in his hand. "Just don't kill yerself getting down from there."

Lena gave a mock salute. "You got it." She started to climb over to to the other side when another explosion rocked the cavern. Lena lost her footing and slid down the rock pile, coming to a stop in front of Mr. McDuck. She gave him a thumbs-up.

"Not dead," she said.

Mr. McDuck bent down and gently touched the trickle of blood on Lena's temple. "You and I are going to have some words when we get out of here," he said.

Lena shrugged. "Sure. Whatever you say." She stood up, and this time the earth wasn't so kind and started tilting again. Mr. McDuck caught her.

"We need to get you to a hospital," he muttered. He kept a tight arm around her shoulder as he lead her further into the cave and hopefully towards the way out. The ground rumbled again, dust and pebbles crumbling around them, and Lena smiled.


	6. Changes

**_Changes_**

 _Prompt: Broken bone_

Donald watched his nephews come up the pier on their way home from school. Today, they were followed by a number of their classmates. Dewey, a bright orange cast on his arm, seemed to be regaling the group with an embellished reenactment of the incident that had earned him that cast. Louie was collecting money and passing around a Sharpie, evidently charging for the privilege of signing Dewey's cast. And Huey had that look on his face that he wore when reciting Junior Woodchuck Guidebook rules in an attempt to wrangle his brothers, looking like he was struggling to get a word in edgewise.

Donald shook his head. It was a far cry from last weekend, when Dewey had been crying in the emergency room while his brothers had held his hand, fighting tears of their own. Sure, if Donald had stopped to think about it, he easily could have predicted the scene in front of him. But he'd been a little too busy fretting over his little boy with a broken arm and his equally distraught brothers to think that far into the future.

The boys had been playing some sort of game involving knights and swords around the main deck of the houseboat. Their life jackets had become suits of armor, and some old mailing tubes had become swords. Sure, the boys had been running around a bit more than Donald would have liked, but he was busy working-and a job that allowed him to work from home wasn't something he was going to risk losing very easily. And besides, he'd been keeping an eye on them. At least, he thought he had been.

Anyway, at some point, Dewey had decided that it would be a good idea to climb onto the roof. Which, from a tactical standpoint, wasn't exactly _wrong_ , but from a practical standpoint, was _extremely_ wrong. As evidenced by the _thud_ that had vibrated through the floorboards shortly after.

By the time Donald had gotten outside, Dewey was bawling, Louie was near tears, and Huey was trying to keep Dewey from moving so much as a single muscle. And Dewey's arm was _definitely_ broken.

Donald took another look outside. Dewey was now acting out what looked like a bullfight, Louie was counting a stack of dollar bills, and Huey was holding his forehead in his hand. Donald smiled sadly. The scene was so familiar. Twenty-five years ago, it would have been Della jumping off roofs and then telling increasingly fantastic stories about how she'd earned her injury, each making her look enormously brave, daring and strong. Gladstone would have been collecting money in exchange for the privilege of being able to sign her cast, but only because someone had first offered him the money; he never would have come up with the idea on his own. And Donald would have been alternating between trying to get Della to stop telling untenable lies and yelling at Gladstone to stop taking advantage of their classmates (and then getting into a fight with him later when he refused to split the dough).

The spot in Donald's heart where Della belonged felt especially empty today.

Donald checked the clock and decided that enough was enough. He stepped outside and whistled.

"Time to come in, boys!" he called. Huey obediently started making his way up the dock. Dewey bowed theatrically while one last kid finished signing his cast. Louie was still taking money from a few kids who hadn't gotten the chance to sign it yet.

"Now!" Donald said, adding just enough sharpness to his voice to get Dewey and especially Louie's attention.

"It was nice of you to collect of all of that money for Dewey," Donald said to Louie as the boys came on deck.

"What? No! I mean-" Louie spluttered. "It was my idea!"

"It's his cast," Donald said with a shrug. "So it's his money."

"Shouldn't I at least get a finder's fee?"

"You'll have to discuss that with your brother," Donald said, transferring the money from Louie's hands to Dewey's. Dewey waggled his eyebrows at a still-grumbling Louie wearing a smug smile on his face while Huey launched into a frustrated speech about how it had been unethical to take the money in the first place and how they should give it all back tomorrow.

Donald felt his heart squeeze. Some things never changed, and sometimes they changed far too much.


	7. Caught

**_Caught Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea_**

 _Prompt: Guilt_

Lena lay in bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach, threatening to rise up and spill over.

Today had been...well, it hadn't been a _bad_ day, per se. It had been relatively quiet, for living at McDuck Manor. Mr. McDuck had been at the Money Bin all day, which always made Lena feel a little antsy, but not as much as she did whenever Webby was away. It was almost like she felt she didn't belong at the Manor without them there, too, and like someone was going to kick her out or find her super annoying and silently (or maybe not so silently) wish she were gone. Or something.

She and the other kids had spent a few hours doing school stuff, courtesy of Mrs. Beakley. Not Lena's favorite activity, but she could definitely understand why she had to do it (she didn't really understand why Webby had to do it, though; that kid seemed to know _everything_ ). After school, Webby had opted to do some independent research about some artifact that she thought Mr. McDuck might be interested in, and Lena had chosen to join her, even though she really couldn't care less about the artifact or the research. The triplets had gone off to do their own boy things-Louie was definitely marathoning _Ottoman Empire_ (which Lena still didn't understand the appeal of), Dewey had disappeared into one of the less-used rooms of the Manor, as he was wont to do (sometimes, Lena could hear loud music and bad singing coming from that direction, but if anybody else noticed, they never said anything), and Huey had helped Webby with her research for a little while before leaving to do more school stuff (which Lena really didn't understand).

After a while of that, Mrs. Beakley stopped them with a mid-afternoon snack, and then they had a foam dart gun fight around the ground floor of the Manor, which Lena got the feeling was something Mrs. Beakley would rather them _not_ do, but they did anyway. The game ended when Dewey accidentally hit his uncle in the face with one and Donald had decided that the boys needed to spend some quality time with him fixing up the houseboat, and Webby, naturally, had decided to join. Which left Lena little choice but to join, too. Which was...awkward, to say the least. Lena didn't really know what to do, so she'd just ended up standing there chatting with Webby while she hammered wooden boards in place, occasionally lending a hand whenever Webby'd asked.

Then, finally, Mrs. Beakley had called them in for dinner, and by that point, Mr. McDuck was back home, which made Lena feel a little better, but not by much. She'd stayed mostly quiet while Webby and the boys told him about their day. What was she supposed to say? "I did my school work and then stood around with Webby while she did cool, helpful things, and then I stood around with Webby while she and the boys did other cool, helpful things?" That wasn't exactly something you said to a guy who'd gone from penniless to gazillionaire through little more than hard work and was now letting you live in his house rent-free.

Not that Lena deserved to live in his house. Not after all she'd done. The whole reason she'd even talked to Webby in the first place was to worm her way into the family and do whatever she could to break them apart. Destroy her friendship with Huey, Dewey, and Louie, pull her away from Mr. McDuck. Ideally, the goal was to get them all to turn on each other, but any little bit of conflict would have been helpful. Heck, even getting them into trouble would have been helpful. But no, instead she'd risked discovery by using magic to save Mrs. Beakley from being crushed by the train car. Which was definitely a good thing-Lena much preferred a McDuck Manor with Mrs. Beakley to run it, not to mention she was Webby's grandma-but it still left her with pangs of guilt from time to time for some crazy reason.

And then when that hadn't worked, Magica had switched to having Lena use her status as Webby's friend to get close to Mr. McDuck. Physically. So she could cast curses and try to swipe his Number One Dime. Which, of course, hadn't worked, either. "Sabotage," Aunt Magica had called it. Well, of _course_ Lena hadn't tried her hardest. Webby was her friend, and her family was pretty nice. And rich, to boot.

So why did she still feel so _guilty_ about it?

She'd been doing what she could to keep from hurting them too badly. And with Aunt Magica breathing down her neck (almost literally), there wasn't a whole lot she _could_ do. But somehow, she still felt like she should have done more.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel like she should have listened to Aunt Magica in the first place! It was the weirdest thing. Sure, after fifteen years of following Aunt Magica's orders, it made sense that it would feel a little weird not to. But this? This was _ridiculous_.

And then she's had that vision, with the magical dream catcher, and it had been absolutely terrifying. More than enough to set her on the straight and narrow. But before she could change her ways, cut ties with Aunt Magica (well, as much as she could, anyway), she'd possessed her. And Lena was suddenly powerless to do much of anything.

She could have fought harder. She could have spent more time practicing and perfecting her own magical abilities so she would have been prepared when Magica had taken over her body. She could have warned Webby and Mr. McDuck sooner. Sure, it probably would have meant they would have taken her to some remote, barely-reachable corner of the earth and left her there for the rest of forever, but then Duckburg and Scrooge's dime would have been out of Magica's reach.

There had to have been _something_ Lena could have done, but she hadn't. It felt like she'd barely even tried.

But now everything was ok. Lena had a place to live, food to eat every day, new clothes when she needed them. She even had a family, a _good_ family, made up of people who cared about _her_ , not about stupid vendettas and how she could help them get revenge.

At least, Lena thought they cared about her. Webby definitely did, that was for sure. Mr. McDuck probably did, though there was still a chance that he'd only let her move in because he'd promised right before Magica had trapped him in his dime. Mrs. Beakley seemed to like her, but she wasn't exactly paid to have opinions. Then again, she didn't usually bother to keep them private. The triplets seemed to be warming up to her, most of the time, though she couldn't help but feel left out when they started talking about their various inside jokes and secret triplet things than non-triplets could never understand. Lena wondered if they did that on purpose. Then there was Donald, who Lena was pretty sure didn't like her very much because he never really said much to her. Then again, that wasn't entirely a _bad_ thing, since she could never understand what he was saying, but when he was the only adult around...it was definitely awkward.

Either way, none of them had any reason to like like her. Duckburg was _still_ cleaning up the mess Aunt Magica had made. She'd put Webby and the boys and Mr. McDuck's Money Bin in danger more than once, and even though she wasn't trying to anymore, sometimes she _still_ managed to. She cost money to feed and clothe and house, and even though Mr. McDuck had plenty of it, he certainly didn't like to spend it.

And on top of all of that, Aunt Magica was still out there, somewhere, regaining her strength and planning a second revenge. Any day, now, Magica would figure out Lena was still alive and come after her to punish her for for all the ways she had failed her, putting the whole Duck/McDuck/Vanderquack/Beakley family in danger. And it would be all Lena's fault.

Lena gulped, trying to swallow down some of the guilt. That was all ridiculous, right? If Mrs. Beakley didn't want her there, she wouldn't let her hang out with Webby. If the triplets didn't want her there...well, there wasn't a whole lot they could do, but they'd probably go out of their way to treat her like garbage. If Donald didn't want her there...hm. Well, Lena supposed it didn't really matter if he wanted her there or not. It wasn't like he had much authority around the Manor (except where the triplets were concerned), especially since he pretty much lived in the houseboat back in the swimming pool.

And if Mr. McDuck didn't want her there, if he thought she was _truly_ a threat to his family's safety, he'd have kicked her out onto the streets.

Right?


	8. Absence

_**Absence**_

 _Prompt: Scars_

Donald stood at the railing of the main deck of the houseboat, looking out into the dark ocean. He had a cup of tea in hand, the boys were asleep, and he actually had a pretty decent job that he hadn't managed to mess up yet. The boys were doing well in school, the houseboat was relatively clean, and the pantry was stocked with food and plenty of snacks. So, objectively, life was pretty good right now.

But still, his heart ached. Dewey had dug up an old toy plane today and almost jumped off the roof of the houseboat with it to make it fly. Della had done the exact same thing, once, back at Grandma's farm, except she'd jumped off the henhouse and landed in a soft pile of hay. And then later, Huey had gotten into an argument with Dewey that somehow ended in Huey making a new toy airplane for him that could actually fly a little to say sorry. And boy, Donald had had to double check the old photo albums to make sure that Della really had disappeared before the boys had hatched, because Donald had long ago lost count of the number of times that Della had apologized to him with a gift. Not to mention that Della had had a thing for toys that actually worked-airplanes that flew, boats that sailed, cars that drove. At least, until she'd been able to fly a plane of her own.

And then Louie had tried to sneak an extra can of Pep before dinner, and the look he gave Donald when he was caught-Donald's heart had just about stopped. It was like Della was _there_ , looking up at him in the kitchen of his houseboat. It'd been all Donald could do to stammer out something about how he'd let it go, just this once, before shutting himself in his room to blink back tears and steady his breathing.

And their accomplishments. Della's boys were talented. Huey had won first place in the science fair last week. Dewey had just gotten a part in his first school play, and Donald was working on getting Louie to volunteer to sell concessions so that he'd use his carefully-refined skill set for good, rather than scams.

Della should have been there to see all of this.

It had been _years_ since she'd disappeared. Donald should have been used to her absence by now. But he still found himself turning towards where she should be, ready to exchange proud smiles and good-natured ribs about the boys' accomplishments.

Della would have _loved_ Huey's volcano model and the detailed explanations about both how volcanoes worked and how baking soda and vinegar reacted to create the eruption. She'd have loved to help Dewey practice his lines and drive him to and from rehearsals. And she would have gotten quite the kick out of having to scold Louie for selling a group of classmates the belltower of their school.

 _"Huey's a lot like you, Donnie,"_ she'd have said, especially once he'd started showing signs of the famous Duck/McDuck temper.

 _"Dewey's the spitting image of you, Del,"_ he'd have said back. Donald's heart clenched, hard. It was rare for him to acknowledge the similarities between his boys and their family members. _"But what about Louie?"_

 _"He's like Uncle Scrooge, of course!"_ Della would have said with a laugh. _"You've seen how he eyes the money in the Bin."_

Donald shook the image out of his head. Nope. Nuh-uh. He wasn't going there. Uncle Scrooge was the reason that none of this could ever happen. He didn't even deserve to be in his fantasy.

But Donald's brain just wouldn't let it go.

 _"More like Gladstone,"_ he'd have replied. _"Lazy and a sloth, but expects wealth and good fortune to drop into his lap."_

 _"Oh, stop,"_ Della would have said, probably giving him a little shove. _"He's not that bad."_

Donald would have shrugged. _"Only because_ you're _raising him. Could you imagine if he were Gladstone's kid?"_

And Della would have laughed, and they would have thanked the Powers That Be that Gladstone didn't have any kids, and that would have been that.

Donald wiped tears away with the palm of his hand. He'd never wish his nephews away, not even for a moment, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if things would be easier without the constant reminder of her absence.

Donald shook his head. There was no use brooding over it; it wasn't like it was going to bring any of them back. He drained the rest of his tea and turned to go back inside. It was definitely time for bed.

Donald put his mug in the sink and turned out the kitchen lights. Before heading to his own room, he peeked into the boys'. He couldn't help but smile when he saw them in there, each sprawled out fast asleep on their bunks. It looked like Huey had goaded his brothers into tidying up a little (or possibly he'd cleaned up himself), though their homework was still covering the kitchen table. Donald would have to remember that for tomorrow.

Donald began to close the door when he was stopped by a small voice.

"Uncle Donald?"

Donald quietly opened the door back up. "Yes, Dewey?"

Dewey held out his arms, and Donald tiptoed over to give him a tight hug.

"Good night, Uncle Donald."

"Good night, Dewey."

Dewey snuggled back into his blankets and immediately fell back asleep. Donald watched him for a few seconds before creeping back out of the room and softly closing the door.

Sometimes, moments like these made him feel like he was actually doing alright. And sometimes, they just made him miss his family.


	9. Practice

_**Practice**_

 _Prompt: Self-Inflicted_

Lena stood in the amphitheater, talisman in hand. It had been a long time since the sun had gone down. Magica was no longer around, but that didn't stop Lena from continuing to practice.

She shut her eyes concentrated on a fallen column. The wind picked up, causing her her hair and her shirt to flutter around. She felt the familiar warmth and energy of magic as it encompassed her body, and a matching glow encompassed the column. She raised her hand, grunting in exertion, trying to lift the column.

A horrible bang interrupted Lena's concentration as the column crashed to the ground. She panted, trying desperately to gather the strength to try again.

She closed her eyes again. Focus. She could do this.

Magic encompassed Lena's body once again, and it quickly spread to the column. She raised her hand, and the column began to levitate. But a sudden stabbing pain in her arms made her drop it again.

"Darn it!" Lena yelled, the words echoing off the walls of the amphitheater. She shook her arms out and tried again.

This time the column rose about two feet before that same stabbing pain sent it crashing back to the ground.

Lena groaned. "Why won't this _stupid_ thing cooperate?" she yelled as loudly as she could.

She took a deep breath and tried again. Lena felt the magic encompass her body, warm and buzzing with energy. She felt it spread to the column. She increased her efforts. If she just tried harder-

The warmth of the magic turned hot, and the buzzing energy started vibrating. Lena tuned it out-she wasn't going to give up now. The column rose, higher and higher as Lena guided it with her arms, centimeter by centimeter. Lena's arms ached. Her lungs were on fire. Her skin began to crack, letting slivers of white light pour out. Her head began to swim. She could no longer tell up from down and hoped that she was still pulling the column in the right direction. The magic around her grew hotter, and Lena heard a sizzling sound as the sweat pouring down her face turned to steam. Her hands shook, and she wasn't sure that she would be able to last much longer…

* * *

Lena woke up on the cool, hard concrete floor of the amphitheater. She rolled over painfully onto her back and watched as the stars spun lazily high above her head.

Everything ached. Her arms felt like they belonged to a ragdoll, soft and limp and like they were far away from her body. Her skin felt dry and almost flaky, like the slightest movement would tear it apart. Her thoughts were still muddled, and her lungs were and throat were sore, like she'd just run a marathon without pacing herself.

Tomorrow, Magica would yell at her. Make her rest for a few days to heal and regain her strength, all while berating her for doing something so stupid and getting in the way of her plans. But tonight? Tonight, Lena simply closed her eyes and fell into the dark, empty, painless void that was sleep.


	10. Thief

_**Thief**_

 _Prompt: Held at Gunpoint_

At 6:00 PM, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera found himself walking through the halls of McDuck Industries on his way back to the lab. It was a full hour after quitting time, but he had somehow managed to leave the Gizmoduck suit (and his keys) behind. The halls were dim and quiet. Most of the offices in this part of the building were empty, now, though a few stragglers remained to get some extra work done.

At first, Fenton dismissed the thuds and bumps as coming from one of those offices, or maybe the janitorial staff. And when they got louder as he drew closer to the lab, well, there were plenty of offices down that way, so it was probably coming from one of them.

Except now at this end of the hallway, all the rooms were dark, and those thuds and bumps weren't getting any quieter.

In fact, they sounded almost like they were coming from the lab.

Fenton crept closer to the darkened lab, pressing himself against the wall to maintain stealth. The thuds and bumps grew louder, and Fenton could now hear muttered cursing joining them. He slipped into the lab and grabbed the nearest weapon, the shadow gun, off of a table. He held it like he'd seen his mamá do so many times before.

He saw a dark shape in the middle of the floor, looking like it was caught in something and struggling to get out.

Fenton leapt towards it. "Freeze, villain!" he shouted.

The figure paused and turned to face Fenton. Well, as much as it could face anybody with that thing over its head.

Wait a minute. That was the Gizmoduck suit.

"You fiend!" Fenton cried, pointing the gun at the figure.

Muffled yelling started to come from the suit.

Fenton's hands shook. He couldn't see well enough to tell whether activating the suit could end up hurting whoever was trying to steal it, but he couldn't turn his back on the figure to switch on the lights.

"Stand over against the wall!" he said.

The figure continued to shout, jumping up and down in anger.

"I mean it! I'm-I'm armed!"

The figure stopped jumping and raised its arms in anger, screaming even louder.

"This is your last warning!" Fenton said. "I'm not afraid to use this!"

Finally, the figure lowered its arms and slumped its shoulders in defeat. It started walking and promptly bumped into a table.

"Oh, sorry," Fenton said, lowering the shadow gun. He went over and took the figure by the arm. "Here." He led the figure over to the wall and turned on the lights.

Fenton looked back at the figure to assess the situation. Somehow, the thief had managed to get the Gizmoduck suit twisted around him, almost as if they had been spinning while it attached itself to their body. Or if they hadn't actually wanted to wear the suit and were trying to get it off as it put itself on, which probably made a little more sense. They had on a pair of grey slacks, the bottoms cuffed, and brown shoes. Their sleeves were green, and…

Fenton felt the blood drain from his face. A short yellow hat sat on the ground.

"M-Mr. Gearloose?" Fenton asked.

The figure crossed his arms. Or, well, crossed his arms as best as he could with the Gizoduck suit on all askew. He said something, but Fenton couldn't hear it through the suit.

"Blathering blatherskite?" Fenton said meekly, and the Gizmoduck suit detached itself from Gyro Gearloose and fastened itself to Fenton. And even though he'd much rather face his boss' wrath in the suit than out of it, Fenton said, "Blathering blatherskite" once again, and the Gizmoduck suit disassembled itself and placed itself in its stand in the corner.

Mr. Gearloose stretched out his limbs, looking like he was checking for injuries. He glanced at Fenton and then cleared his throat.

"I'll...see you tomorrow, then," he said.

"Oh," Fenton said, surprised at the anticlimactic reaction. "Oh, er, yeah! See you tomorrow, Mr. Gearloose!"

Gyro stood for another moment, and then he, with a nod, he made his way out of the lab while Fenton watched. And then he stuck his head back in, and Fenton cringed, preparing himself for the onslaught that was surely coming.

"And thank you," Mr. Gearloose said quickly, and by the time Fenton opened his eyes, he was gone.

Fenton scratched his head. "Huh," he said. Then he returned the shadow gun to its spot in the invention locker, packed the Gizmoduck suit into its case, grabbed his keys, and left, a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips. And then he stopped as he was struck by a thought.

What was Mr. Gearloose doing with the Gizmoduck suit, anyway?


	11. Protect

**_Protect_**

 _Prompt: Self-Sacrifice_

"Well, well, look who we have here," an all-too familiar voice said.

Lena froze.

"Ah, Magica De Spell," Mr. McDuck said. "I had a feeling we might run into you around here."

"What is it that brings you to Italy?" Magica said. With a pang of fear, Lena noticed that her skin had regained its green coloring

"Priceless artifact. What else?" Louie said.

"Easy, lad," Mr. McDuck muttered, putting an arm out to keep him from getting any closer.

"Oh? And what artifact would that be?" Magica asked.

"Just the Sword of Attila," Scrooge said. "You don't happen to know where it is, do you?"

"Really, Scroogie. I expected better from you," Magica said. "You're a little too far west. The Sword of Attila has been in the Austro-Hungarian region for over 900 years. I hear you can see it in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, if you'd like."

Mr. McDuck huffed. "Everybody outside of Central Europe knows that's not the real sword."

"And you think the real one will be here?" Magica asked.

"We do," Mr. McDuck said.

"Hmm. It's a pity," Magica said. "You know I'm not going to let you look for it."

"I was prepared for that," Mr. McDuck said, though Lena could have sworn he was starting to look uneasy.

"Oh, were you, now?" Magica said. "I've learned a few new tricks since I got out of your stupid dime!"

"As have I, De Spell," Mr. McDuck said, taking a fighting stance.

Lena's eyes darted frantically between the two of them. Her breath quickened. This couldn't be happening.

Magica raised her staff and magical energy began to crackle around her.

Lena's heart raced as she desperately tried to anticipate what was going to happen.

Magica pulled her staff back. "Eat dust, Scroogie!" she shouted, flinging her staff forward and letting loose a dense charge of white-hot magic.

Time seemed to slow down. "No!" Lena shouted, running in front of Scrooge. It felt like she was in a dream, running as fast as she could but going nowhere fast. In one last, frantic push, she leapt into the path of the magic, colliding with it in a blinding flash of bright white light.

Lena felt like she was floating in a white emptiness. There was no up, or down, or warm, or cold, or air, or feeling, or anything. It was almost like being back in the shadow realm, not also not. Lena felt peaceful and calm. There was nothing to worry about. Lena slowly became aware of a high-pitched whine filling her ears. But everything was still ok. Right? Lena wasn't entirely sure anymore. There was something...

Lena groaned as her eyes fluttered open. Cool water was being pressed to her lips.

"What...where…" she began, regaining her bearings. The memory of what had happened came back to her with a jolt. "Magica! Is she-?"

"Gone," Mr. McDuck said. "You're safe. She won't be bothering us again today."

Lena allowed herself to relax, and then winced as she began to feel the aching pain in her muscles now that the adrenaline was leaving her system.

"That was a really brave thing you did," Webby said, putting a water bottle down on the ground.

Lena shook her head. "It was nothing," she said. _She owed them so much more._

"You near came unraveled back there," Mr. McDuck said.

"Unraveled…?" Lena said.

"You almost turned back into a shadow," Webby said. It was rare to see her so worried and upset.

"Huh," Lena said slowly. "I didn't know that could happen."

"You've gotta be more careful," Webby said, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. "I couldn't…" Webby trailed off, biting her beak.

"It was reckless," Mr. McDuck said harshly, and Lena couldn't stifle a flinch. " _Don't_ do it again."

Lena looked down, trying to hold back the tears gathering in her eyes. She could just about see Webby stand up and walk away, and she could practically hear her thoughts. _Uncle Scrooge is right. Lena's too dangerous to have around._

Lena felt more than saw Mr. McDuck sit down next to her.

"Lena," he began. He paused, and Lena held her breath, waiting for him to tell her that he was kicking her out of the family. Or maybe, if she was lucky, that he was putting her on probation.

But instead, he put a hand on her shoulder. "It was a very brave thing you did," he said.

Lena looked up at him in surprise.

"But ye have to understand-" he started.

"But I had to!" Lena shouted, her words choked with sobs. "She-she was going to hurt you! She wants to _kill_ you!"

Mr. McDuck moved himself so that he was in front of Lena, and he gently raised her chin until she was looking at him.

"Lena, ye scared us half to death," Mr. McDuck said. "Ye-ye scared _me_ half to death. You can't-" he took a breath, "We can't lose you."

And with that, Lena burst into tears and launched herself at Mr. McDuck, who wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as she sobbed.

Lena wasn't sure how much time passed, but she knew that, at some point, Webby joined in, crying almost as hard as she was. And some time after that, she started to hear the roar of propellers growing louder outside.

"That'll be Launchpad and the boys," Mr. McDuck said, disentangling himself from his nieces and standing up. "It's high time we head back home."

"Home?" Lena asked, wiping her tears away. "What about the sword?"

"It can wait a little while longer," Mr. McDuck said. "It's not going anywhere."

Webby took Lena by the hand, and together they returned to the Sunchaser, where Lena was welcomed with open and very relieved arms.


	12. Numb

_**Numb**_

 _Prompt: Starvation_

 **A/N: Warning-this fic contains what could probably be considered disordered eating. Please proceed at your own risk.**

Donald lay on the cold, concrete floor. He'd long ago lost track of how many days had past. It couldn't be that many if he were still alive. At least, he was pretty sure he was still alive. His head was so fuzzy and muddled, he wasn't quite sure.

Donald heard a clang from up the hall, and then footsteps. Then his door swung open with a creak, and a wooden tray was placed on the floor with a clatter. The door was shut once more and the footsteps retreated back to whence they came, another clang acting as a full-stop to the one thing that happened around here every day.

This could be Hell, he supposed. It wasn't anything like he'd envisioned-there was no fire, no tortured screams, no weapons. No pain, really. Just...a whole lot of nothing.

Nah. If this were Hell, Donald wouldn't be this numb. What was the point of torturing someone if they didn't have enough energy to care?

Donald slowly dragged himself over to the tray and forced himself to sit up, propping himself against the wall. He picked at the meager slice of bread and small cup of thin broth presented to him. Strangely, after however-many days having nothing more than this once a day, he didn't feel very hungry. Just tired and slow and cloudy and numb.

If he hadn't already lost hope that Scrooge and Della would come to rescue him back at day 2 (Donald had lost track of the days soon after), he definitely would have lost it by now. Aside from the obvious-Scrooge and Della had always preferred each other over Donald, Donald always messed things up more often than he did anything helpful, one less relative meant that much money saved-Donald found himself in a very, _very_ dangerous position behind a _lot_ of very, _very_ dangerous traps and obstacles.

Of course, there was also the fact that he'd told them not to come back for him. _Save yourselves. Go on without me. I'm not worth it. Just go._

Also, the artifact they were trying to find was very time-sensitive. Which explained why Donald hadn't seen any sign of his family thus far, though he was pretty darn sure they weren't going to come back for him at all.

Which was fine. Really. Donald hadn't shed a single tear over his impending death and never seeing his family again, not even before his emotions had been starved away. It would be better for everybody. Adventures would go far smoother, Scrooge and Della wouldn't have to worry about him messing things up or getting himself into trouble all the time, Scrooge would be even richer. Win-win all around.

Donald forced down the bread and broth and then dragged himself back to his spot away from the door. He was tired. So tired. But there was some reason he wasn't supposed to nap. He couldn't _quite_ remember what it was, but out of respect for the Donald he had been however-many days ago, Donald stayed awake, tracing the lines in the walls with his eyes, trying to find pictures within them (but not being particularly successful; it seemed that his imagination had gone away along with his feelings).

Donald heard another clang down the hall, and then more footsteps, but there were more than usual. Faster. Two people, or three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…Wait, why was he counting?

As Donald mulled it over, he slowly became aware of the sound of his own name. It kind of sounded like Della, and Uncle Scrooge was in there, too, but it was mostly Della. Maybe he was dead after all...

The footsteps and the voices grew closer until they abruptly stopped. Then someone (or something?) was banging on the door.

"Donald!" The door shook like someone was trying to open it. "Donald, are you in there?"

Donald lifted his head. "Del? 'Sthat you?" His voice was raspy, and his mouth felt too soft, like he'd just gotten a couple of cavities filled and the novocaine hadn't worn off yet.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Donald heard. "Just sit tight, Donnie! We're going to get you out of here!"

Donald pushed himself up as a jolt of fear gave him a small burst of energy. "Wait! What about the-"

There was another clang and more running footsteps, this time much more than just two sets. Donald heard Uncle Scrooge curse under his breath, and Donald felt a pang of guilt. They shouldn't be here. They should be somewhere else- _anywhere_ else.

"One minute, Donnie," he heard Della say, and then the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and wood hitting flesh, and some yelling, and then it was quiet except for some panting.

"Ok, how are we going to open this door?" he heard Della say.

"That should be easy enough," Uncle Scrooge said, and then Donald heard the doorknob start to jiggle. Uncle Scrooge muttered, clearly annoyed, and Donald started to feel guilty again.

"Stand back, laddie!" Uncle Scrooge shouted, and then there were some very loud noises of Uncle Scrooge's cane hitting against the doorknob. Then there was a clunk as the knob fell to the floor, and a creak as the door swung open.

"Donnie!" Della cried, rushing to him. "What did they do to you?"

Donald tried to shrug. "Not much," he said.

"I can certainly see that," Uncle Scrooge said, looking over his nephew with a critical eye. "Have ye eaten _anything_ in the last week and a half?"

"We would have been here sooner, but we couldn't find you," Della said, tears coming to her eyes. "We should have…"

"We've got him back now, lass. Now let's get him home."

Della hoisted her brother to his feet and let him lean on her as they led him out through a trail of unconscious guards.

"What about the…" Donald wracked his brain trying to remember what it was they'd been looking for in the first place. "...the shield?"

"The shield?" Uncle Scrooge asked. "What of it?"

"Did you find it?" Donald asked.

"Of course not," Della said. "We started looking for you as soon as we got back to the plane."

Donald frowned. "But the sun only aligns every 600 years. That means-"

"That means that we've got you back, and that's what's important," Uncle Scrooge said. Donald blinked as they stepped into the sunlight, and he felt a hat being placed on his head, which helped. The rhythm of their footsteps lulled him into a sort of a stupor, and the next thing Donald knew, they were boarding the airplane.

Della gently sat him down in a seat and buckled him in as Uncle Scrooge retrieved some crackers and some water.

"This is all we have that won't make you sick," Uncle Scrooge said. "Probably. Make sure you go easy."

Donald took the crackers and the water, taking tiny bites and sips more automatically than anything else. He wished they had a bed on the plane. Sitting up right now was not something his body particularly wanted to do.

When Donald's eyes began to droop, Uncle Scrooge took the remaining crackers and the bottle from him. "Rest now, lad. We'll be home before you know it."

And Donald did.


	13. Tired

**_Tired_**

 _Prompt: Sleep Deprivation_

Lena dragged herself downstairs to the kitchen. She grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Mrs. Beakley had brewed for herself and Donald.

"Absolutely not," Mrs. Beakley said, coming out of nowhere and scaring the crap out of Lena. If Mrs. Beakley hadn't grabbed the cup from her, Lena was sure she would have dropped it.

"But-"

"Coffee is not for children."

"I'm not-"

"Nor is it for teenagers." Mrs. Beakley turned and poured the coffee into the sink. "Now, out you go. Breakfast will be ready in a moment."

Lena, now thoroughly ticked off, went into the dining room and found her seat next to Webby. She folded her arms on the table and put her head down as Webby babbled next to her about all the super-amazing-awesome things they were going to do today.

Mrs. Beakley soon came out with breakfast, and Lena rested her head on her hand as she picked at her food. Webby kept yapping away, the boys wouldn't shut up about everything they were going to to today, Donald had a valiant fight with his eggs that Lena would have normally found hilarious in a loser sort of a way, and Mr. McDuck looked over his morning paper once in a while to respond to something someone had said.

Lena's face hurt. Her eyelids felt scratchy and heavy, but in that way they do once you've transcended from "sleepy" to "I'm so tired I can't fall asleep." She had a headache, and her muscles were sore.

"You coming, Lena?" Webby asked, startling her. Lena realized that everyone was starting to clear their plates and head off for the day.

"Huh? Oh, uh, you go on ahead. I'll catch up in a few."

"Ok!" Webby shouted, running off to do...whatever it was she'd just been yammering about.

Lena took a deep breath and forced herself to take a few bites of her breakfast even though the thought of food was making her feel nauseous. Mrs. Beakley came in to start clearing the rest of the dishes.

"You look awful," Mrs. Beakley said. "What time did you go to sleep last night?"

"Ten," Lena answered honestly. Well, mostly honestly. She had definitely been in bed by ten, but she hadn't actually closed her eyes until a few hours later. When Mrs. Beakley looked skeptical, Lena added, "I just haven't been sleeping well lately."

"And why might that be?" Mrs. Beakley asked. "Webby hasn't been keeping you up, has she?"

"No, of course not," Lena said.

Mrs. Beakley tried to put her hand to Lena's forehead, and Lena pulled away.

"I'm fine!" she said.

"Lena," Mrs. Beakley said gently. "If something's bothering you…"

The room darkened as the sun passed behind a cloud, and Lena jumped, her eyes darting frantically around the room.

"Oh, Lena," Mrs. Beakley said, realization dawning on her face. "It's Magica, isn't it?"

"Where?" Lena said, ducking under the table.

"She isn't here. She can't get anywhere near here. Mr. McDuck has a state-of-the-art security system in place with reinforced magic barriers-"

"I know!" Lena snapped. She climbed back up from the floor and hit her head on the table.

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Beakley asked.

"I'm _fine_ ," Lena said, rubbing the sore spot on her head.

"Let me check," Mrs. Beakley said

"You're overreacting," Lena said, crossing her arms.

"Maybe, but I prefer to err on the side of caution," Mrs. Beakley said, lightly feeling Lena's head for a bump and finding none. "Now, I'm going to be spending most of the day cleaning the parlor. The couch in there is quite comfortable, and I wouldn't mind some company."

"But I told Webby we'd do something or another today," Lena said.

Mrs. Beakley shrugged. "She'll understand if it has to wait until tomorrow," she said. "I'll be in there shortly, if you want to get settled in." She grabbed the rest of the dishes from the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

Lena supposed that spending the day hanging around Mrs. Beakley wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. And the idea of a soft, comfortable couch _was_ very inviting...

And that's how, an hour later, Lena was sleeping peacefully on that parlor couch, feeling safe for the first time in almost a week.


	14. Puppet

**_Puppet_**

 _Prompt: Conditioning/Brainwashing (though it really came out more as mind control)_

"Ah, Lena," Magica said. "It really is so good to see you again."

Lena fought against the bindings that held her fast while Magica danced around the room, plucking ingredients from shelves and tossing them into her cauldron.

"You, my dear Lena, are going to be my puppet once again," Magica said, stirring the cauldron with a wand. "It'll be just like old times!"

Lena struggled harder, panic rising in her throat.

"Oh, that really won't do any good. Best save your strength." Magica dipped a pinky into her brew and tasted it.

Lena tried to protest, but the gag in her mouth absorbed the sound of her voice.

"This time, things are going to go right," Magica said. She tapped the wand on the edge of the caldron, and the wand sucked up the brew like a vacuum cleaner. "You'll help me destroy Scrooge and his family once and for all!"

Lena frantically shook her head, yelling, pleading Magica to set her free, not to make her hurt her family, but it was no use.

Magica took out another wand. "Now, hold still!" She pointed the wand at Lena and zap! Her muscles were frozen. She couldn't move.

"Much better," Magica said, undoing the ropes binding her arms and legs. She stood Lena up and retrieved the first wand. Lena wanted desperately to run, to fight, but she couldn't so much as wiggle her toes.

Magica raised her wand and pointed it at Lena. A bolt of yellow magic arced from the wand to Lena.

And everything went fuzzy.

* * *

The thing was, Lena was aware. She was aware the whole time. She could see and hear and feel and think, except it was all dulled. She knew she was being taken from the decrepit house at the edge of Duckburg that Magica had been staying in back to McDuck Manor. She saw Webby, Mr. McDuck, Mrs. Beakley, the triplets, and even Donald come out to greet her. She heard them express their worry about where she'd gone off to. She heard her own voice answer back, filled with attitude, that the Manor was too stifling, the people in it too overwhelming, and she'd had to get out for a while. She saw them all draw back, but refuse to get angry at her, telling her they were happy to give her some space and that she just had to ask for it. She heard her own voice answer back, "Whatever," and she felt herself push them roughly out of the way as she went back into the Manor and locked herself in her room.

Lena wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

Lena soon found that, if she wanted, she could zone out into a sort of stupor and ignore what was going on around her, but that would be cheating. She hadn't tried hard enough last time, when Magica had taken over her body and tried to destroy all of Duckburg. This time, she had to fight. She couldn't stop, not even for a moment. She had to stop herself from hurting her new family. But as much as she tried, she couldn't.

She heard herself snap at Webby whenever she asked her to come do things with her. She saw herself take her plate from the dinner table and insist on eating it up in her room, speaking with such confidence that nobody challenged her. She even heard herself insult Mrs. Beakley's cooking.

And things only got worse from there.

Early the next morning, Lena found herself awake once again, sneaking out of the Manor and breaking into the Money Bin. Alarms blared around her, but she didn't stop, pocketing handfuls of gems and punching anyone who got in her way with a strength she didn't know she had. Soon, the triggered alarms brought Mr. McDuck to the Bin, and the absence of Lena at home brought everyone else.

Lena could feel Magica's grin as she set Lena into overdrive, causing her mind to white out as she kicked, punched, hit, dodged, sliced, and stabbed (the latter two courtesy of a letter opener and a shard of freshly-shattered glass) at a rate that put Webby to shame.

When Lena regained awareness, she found herself with that shard of glass pressed to Webby's throat, warning the family not to come any closer if they didn't want Webby to get it.

"Lena," Webby said, a devastation in her voice that Lena had never heard from her before. "Why?"

A cloud of purple smoke appeared, and Magica's voice filled her ears. "Because I told her to."

"Magica," Scrooge said with disgust. "Up to your old tricks again, I see. Let Lena go; she's already had more than her share of being possessed."

"Oh, no," Magica said, grinning wickedly. "It's not possession this time around."

Lena felt Webby gasp, and she silently pleaded with Magica to let her go, let them go, at least let her explain what was going on. But Magica presed on.

"She's not doing this of her own free will, and you know it!" Mr. McDuck said. "Let her go!"

"Mmmm, no, I don't think so," Magica said. Lena found herself shoving Webby to the floor. "This is much more fun, don't you think?"

"Let. Her. Go."

"Well, now we're just talking around in circles." Magica handed Lena something. "Finish them."

"With pleasure," Lena heard herself say. She wanted to retch.

Lena threw something she hadn't even known she was holding to the ground. There was a flash of light, a loud bang, and the room was filled with smoke and heat. And then Lena was running, running, running, out of the Bin and halfway across town.

Lena wasn't sure when she was set free of Magica's spell, but by the time she reached the old amphitheater, Lena was back in control. She fell on her hands and knees and started dry heaving, wishing she could expel the last twenty-four hours from her existence. She supposed she was lucky she hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night, or else she'd have quite the mess to clean up.

Lena was shaking all over. She climbed down into her old underground room and crawled into bed, ignoring the thin layer of dust that had accumulated in the last few weeks.

She'd...she'd killed them. After everything they'd done for her-taken her into their home, trusted her even after they'd found out that she was Magica's shadow, that Magica had possessed her.

Lena took a deep breath. Ok. Calm down. It was possible that they survived that. Probably. Maybe. But they'd be hurt. Pretty bad. Lena's feathers were singed, and she was pretty sure Magica had put some sort of protection spell on her.

Nope. There was no way they would be able to survive that. They were...they were…

Lena couldn't even bring herself to think the word.

She started to cry, big tears punctuated by bigger sobs that left her gasping for breath. Magica had never been family, not really. This was Lena's family, and she'd killed them.

Lena wasn't sure how long she cried before she found herself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

"Lena!" she heard faintly. "Lena, where are you?"

Fear clutched at Lena's heart. No, she couldn't deal with this. It was bad enough that her stupid brain made her see Magica in each and every shadow, but voices, now?

"Lena!" This voice was different. It sounded like one of the boys, maybe?

Maybe this time it was real. Maybe they were ghosts. Oh, god, would Lena have to spend the rest of her life being haunted by the family she'd murdered?

"Lena!" That one was definitely Webby.

"I'm sorry!" Lena yelled, choking back sobs. "I didn't mean to! I didn't want to! Magica made me do it; I swear!"

Lena heard more voices, but she couldn't make out the words. It just sounded like they were getting closer.

"I'm sorry!" Lena said again. "I'm sorry…"

The small hatch in Lena's ceiling opened, and a set of webbed feet started climbing down the ladder into her room. Lena screamed and dove under the blanket.

"Lena! Thank goodness!" Lena heard the patter of running feet and then two very solid arms were thrown around her.

"Oh, thank heavens," said Mrs. Beakley's voice.

"I had a feeling she'd be back here," said Mr. McDuck's voice.

"Are you hurt?" Mrs. Beakley said. The arms hugging Lena disappeared as Mrs. Beakley gently pulled down the blanket.

"You're not-you're not dead?" Lena asked, hiccuping.

"No, lass," Mr. McDuck said. "We're all safe."

Lena's eyes again filled with tears. "I'm sorry!" she said, blubbering. "I didn't mean to! I couldn't-it was all Magica! I tried to stop it, I tried, I promise…"

Webby wrapped her arms tightly around her best friend again. "We know it wasn't your fault, Lena."

"Aye," Mr. McDuck said. "I know very well what that wicked witch is capable of. No one's going to blame you."

Mrs. Beakley put a hand on her shoulder, and Mr. McDuck joined in and Lena buried her face in the crook of Webby's neck and sobbed, holding her still-new family close.

"There's no sign of Magica, Uncle Scrooge!" Dewey called from the surface.

"Good. Keep looking, just to be safe," Mr. McDuck called back.

"Are you sure you're all ok?" Lena said with a sniffle.

"Yes. Nothing more than a few superficial injuries," Mrs. Beakley said. She held out a handkerchief, and Lena used it to dry her eyes.

"Come on. Let's go home," Mr. McDuck said, and Lena thanked her lucky stars that she still had such a wonderful home to go back to.


	15. Persistent

_**Persistent**_

 _Prompt: Drugged_

"Have no fear; Gizmoduck is here!" Fenton-er, Gizmoduck-shouted as he burst into the Duckburg National Bank. He was working on his catchphrase, and a bank robbery courtesy of the Beagle Boys (taking a break from going after the Money Bin) seemed as good a time as any to do it.

The mere sight of Gizmoduck was enough to send one of the Beagle Boys, though his brother (they were brothers, right?) pulled him back.

"This is your one warning!" Gizmoduck said. "If you don't surrender now, I'll be forced to resort to...uh...force!"

"I think we should listen to him," the Beagle Boy who'd tried to run said.

"Fat chance," said one of the others. "What can he do? He's just a robot!"

"There's a lot I can do, lawbreaking citizen!" Gizmoduck said. He pushed a button on his sleeve and half a dozen rockets sprang out of the suit, ready to be deployed. "Wait, that's not what I meant-"

"I don't care about you guys, I'm getting out of here!" said that one Beagle Boy.

"I'm with you, Burger," the big one said.

"What are you guys waiting for? Let's scram!" said the little one, and the three Beagle Boys high-tailed it out of the bank.

Gizmoduck pressed a few more buttons on his suit, and finally the rockets folded back into his suit. When he looked up, he found himself surrounded by a growing crowd taking pictures and videos and shouting out questions and thanks.

"Thank you for the recognition," he told the crowd. He didn't have time to linger today. "I must be going. Even in a city as wonderful as Duckburg, crime-" Suddenly, Fenton felt a sharp pinch in his back. He tried to turn around to see what it was, but the crowd was too close. "...crime never sleeps!" He activated his rocket thrusters, but before he could take off he was overtaken by a wave of dizziness. "Crime…" He raised an arm in the air and tried again to take off, but instead, he found himself falling backwards. Fenton was vaguely aware of someone catching him.

"Don't worry, friends," said a strangely familiar voice. "Just a suit malfunction. Nothing to see here."

The voice's words faded away as the world grew dim and distant and then finally black.

* * *

The first thing Fenton was aware of was the feeling of cool air on his damp skin, a stark contrast from the close clamminess of the Gizmoduck suit.

The Gizmoduck suit!

Fenton forced his eyes open. He found himself strapped down, to a...table? Wait, what…?

"Ah, there you are, amigo! Buenos días!"

Fenton felt his gut twist. "What did you do with the suit?"

"Gizmoduck? Oh, he's in the lab. He needs a little reconfiguring after your, ah, scientist tightened his security restrictions."

Fenton lay back on the table as every curse word in the book ran through his head. Good thing Mamá wasn't here; somehow, she'd know _exactly_ what he was thinking, and she'd wash his mouth out with soap.

Then again, if Mamá were here, a lot of his problems would be solved…

"Now, I just need your help with this, amigo!"

Fenton's gut clenched again. He'd _never_ help Mark Beaks.

Beaks brought the chestplate of the Gizmoduck suit over. "I just need you to give your authorization code, and I'll be all set!"

"Never!" Fenton said, slipping in to his Gizmoduck voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'I'm a hero, I can't give in to you because you're a "villain,"'" Beaks said with air quotes. "'Great, now that we've got that out of the way, the code, please?"

"No?" Fenton said, a little less sure this time. What part of "never" did Beaks not understand?

"Come on, amigo, I don't have all day," Beaks said. "I've got important Gizmoduck stuff to do."

Fenton's eyes narrowed. "I will _never_ help you corrupt Gizmoduck."

Beaks' face turned dark, and Fenton could have sworn that the lights dimmed to match. "This is your last chance.

But before Fenton could answer, the chestplate lit up and began pulling away from Beaks.

"What-hey!-what are you doing?" Beaks demanded.

Fenton could only watch, mouth agape, as the chestplate flew out of the room, dragging Beaks with it. Moments later, Beaks backed back into the room, closely followed by a surprisingly menacing-looking empty Gizmoduck suit.

"How are you doing this?" Beaks asked, his voice cracking.

"Um…" Fenton said.

"Back away from the suit. Back away from the suit," the Gizmoduck suit started saying in a monotone voice. "Back away from the suit. Back away from the suit."

"Ok, ok! Sheesh," Beaks said. "Call off your armor!"

"I can't-" Fenton began, but then the Gizmoduck suit deployed the laser. Beaks dove under the table.

"Call it off! Call it off!" he shouted.

The suit wheeled over to Fenton and pointed its laser at his wrist. Welp. This was it. The Gizmoduck suit had finally gone haywire. Goodbye, left hand, it was nice knowing you…

Fenton turned his head away and shut his eyes, hoping it wouldn't hurt too much. He heard the laser turn on and held his breath, waiting for it to pierce his skin...but instead he felt a bit of heat and then a light breeze?

Oh. The suit had cut through the straps holding him down. Well. That made more sense.

The suit made quick work of the strap holding down his right hand, and Fenton sat up as it worked on the ones tying down his ankles. As soon as he was free, he hopped off the table, but was quickly overcome by a wave of dizziness.

Luckily the suit was there to catch him. It picked him up and took off, blasting through the ceiling and away to freedom.

"Whoa," was all Fenton could say. His mind was racing. He poked at the suit. "Did you become sentient?"

"It's me, you idiot," the Gizmoduck suit said, much less robotically this time.

"M-Mr. Gearloose!" Fenton stammered. "I-I can explain!"

"Explain what?" Mr. Gearloose said. "I saw the security footage. There isn't a whole lot you could have done to prevent this from happening.

"I swear, I didn't do it on purpose, I tried everything I could, but-wait, what?"

"We'll have to work on the suit, of course. Clearly, the cracks in between the plates are much too big if Mark Beaks was able to insert a needle between them. And of course you'll have to severely limit your time spent reveling in the adoration of your fans."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Gearloose!" Fenton said.

"For what?" Mr. Gearloose said, annoyed. "I expect you to get straight to work as soon as you get back-" He paused as if listening to someone in the background. "Ugh, fine. You can take the rest of the day off, and _then_ get straight to work. Tomorrow."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Gearloose, sir!" Fenton said. He tried to salute, but he missed his forehead.

"Ok. Maybe you shouldn't come back until Tuesday."

"Yes, sir," Fenton said, and the Gizmoduck suit flew him off into the sunset. Well, really the Money Bin. But to Fenton, they were the same thing.


	16. Drifting

**_Drifting_**

 _Prompt: Sensory Deprivation_

Lena was floating. She was relaxed. Her eyes were closed, and it was quiet. No one else was around. Lena let her thoughts drift.

She and Webby had absolutely creamed Huey, Dewey, and Louie in their foam dart gun fight yesterday, even though they were technically outnumbered. They were all gone today, on some adventure with Mr. McDuck. Lena had decided not to go because, in all honesty, she needed a break. Besides, it seemed like it would be one of the more dangerous adventures, and Lena's body could only deal with so much adrenaline.

Donald had gone, though. Which was kind of weird, since he didn't go along all that often, but Lena certainly wasn't going to complain. Then again, he had been making more of an effort to, Lena wasn't sure what to call it, be friends? Which was also weird, but surprisingly not bad. Though she still had trouble understanding him.

It was almost like being back in the Shadow Realm, in a way. Like there was something in the way, something blocking her from hearing the words clearly. But, also like in the Shadow Realm, she could still understand enough to get the basic gist of what he was saying. Usually.

Lena shuddered. Just thinking about the Shadow Realm made her anxious. Sometimes, she felt like she might slip into it at any moment. It was the worst at night, when everything was quiet and dark and nothing felt real. There were always so many shadows here in the Manor that Lena saw Magica lurking behind every corner and piece of furniture, and when she didn't see Magica, she saw the shadows rising and swallowing her up. She found herself having to do things like run her hand against the wall as she walked and rub the fabric of her shirt or her blanket in between her fingers to convince herself that she was _real_ and tangible.

Panic suddenly caught in her throat. She couldn't feel anything. _She couldn't feel anything_. She couldn't hear anything and she couldn't see anything _and she couldn't feel anything_.

Lena sat up in the bathtub, splashing and sputtering. She looked down at herself, her hands, her body, her feet. She was here. She was solid. She wasn't a shadow.

Lena pulled the drain and stepped out of the tub, roughly rubbing herself with the towel to remind herself that she was _real_ and she was _here_ and she was _safe_. She pulled her shirt and her sweater back on and stepped out of the bathroom, grateful for the cool chill that greeted her.

Lena tried to keep her breathing steady as she searched for Mrs. Beakley; she desperately needed the company. _You're safe here. No one can reach you_ , she told herself. _There are enough defenses in place that Magica can't get you here. Nobody but her can open up the door to the Shadow Realm. The Shadow Realm isn't a sentient being that wants you back; it's not going to come after you_. On a logical level, Lena _knew_ all of this.

Still. The fear remained.


	17. Pep

_**Pep**_

 _Prompt: Withdrawal_

Louie looked at the clock. It was finally past 11, which meant it was about the earliest that he could get away with having a sodia. So he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge…

...and, to his horror, he discovered that there was _no Pep_.

He went to the pantry, where Mrs. Beakley kept the extra Pep that she refused to keep in the fridge (despite Louie's protests that Pep had to be continuously refridgerated to maintain it's full taste and carbonation).

But there wasn't any Pep there, either.

"Mrs. B., we need more Pep!" Louie called out. Maybe he could convince Launchpad to drive him over to the Money Bin so he could buy some from the vending machine. And lend him a few dimes; he was out.

"Mr. McDuck and I have decided that we're not buying Pep anymore," Mrs. Beakley said, coming into the kitchen with a laundry basket full of clean dish towels. "You can have juice, milk, or water."

"What? No more Pep?" Louie said. "Why not?"

"Your uncle was going over his finances and determined that the amount of money he spends on Pep is, in his words, "absolutely ridiculous," and that "the boys can do without."

"But he's the richest duck in the world! He can afford a little soda!"

"He didn't get that way by spending his money on frivolities." Mrs. Beakley finished putting the clean dish towels away and started gathering up the dirty ones. "Frankly, you should be glad that that's one of the only things he decided to stop buying."

Louie felt his world spiraling out of control. "But I _need_ it!"

"Nobody _needs_ soda," Mrs. Beakley said, placing the last dirty dish towel in her basket. She picked up the basket and left the room.

Louie dejectedly dragged himself back in front of the TV and flopped on the floor. Which is where his brothers found him about five and a half episodes of _Ottoman Empire_ later.

"What's up?" Huey said as Dewey hopped on the couch and grabbed the remote.

"Mrs. Beakley isn't going to buy Pep anymore," Louie said, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"That sucks. Hey, do you mind if I change the channel?" Dewey said.

"I don't care," Louie said.

Huey felt his brother's forehead. "Dude, you're all warm and sweaty."

"I haven't had Pep since _yesterday_ ," Louie said.

"Ok, now you're just being overdramatic."

"Hold on a second. I think he has a point," Dewey said, hopping back off the couch and taking his Professor Dewford stance and pacing the floor. "His body's used to having Pep every day, right? So it's not fair for Mrs. Beakley to make him quit cold chicken!"

"Cold turkey," Huey corrected, and then turned to Louie. "Are you having any symptoms?"

Louie groaned. "Everything is terrible," he said.

"Sounds pretty normal to me."

"No, you just have to ask better questions." Dewey thought for a moment. "What are the symptoms of withdrawal?"

"It depends on the thing that you're quitting."

"Then what are the symptoms of Pep withdrawal?"

Huey sighed and took his Junior Woodchucks Guidebook from his hat. He flipped through until he found the right page. "It says here that sugar withdrawal can result in headaches, cravings, muscle aches, chills, mood changes, and nausea, and," Huey flipped a couple of pages ahead, "caffeine withdrawal can cause headaches, fatigue, anxiety, trouble concentrating, and irritability."

"Yep. Definitely got the headache," Louie said.

"Anything else?" Huey asked.

Louie shrugged. "Not yet."

"You'll live," Huey said, snapping the JWG shut.

"But I don't want to live without Pep!" Louie said, rolling over onto his stomach to punctuate his point.

"Ok, now you're just being overdramatic."

"Coming from Dewey, that means a lot."

"You guys are so lucky I can't reach anything to throw at you," Louie said.

Webby appeared in the doorway. "Hey, do you guys want to go swimming out back?"

"Yeah, sure," said Dewey.

"I'm in," said Huey, and they started to leave the room.

Dewey turned around to Louie. "You coming?"

Louie sighed. "Yeah, I guess," he said. He made a big show of peeling himself off the floor and followed them out.


	18. Storm

_**Storm**_

 _Prompt: Flashback_

Donald sat in the rocking chair in the ducklings' room, watching the babies closely as they slept. Lightning flashed outside, bringing along with it terrifying crashes, and the houseboat rocked back and forth in the waves. By some miracle, the boys didn't seem to care and slept soundly, but Donald couldn't sleep. What if their cribs slid across the floor and crashed into each other? What if they fell over? The sandbags he'd piled at their bases seemed be helping, but Donald couldn't shake the fear that something terrible would happen as soon as he took his eyes away.

The houseboat lurched to starboard and Donald gripped the armrests of the chair, watching the cribs intently as if daring them to topple over. Another flash of lightning bathed everything in harsh light, and suddenly Donald was somewhere else…

 _"Reef the mainsail! Hold 'er steady!" Uncle Scrooge was shouting._

 _"Aye aye, Captain!" Della shouted back with a salute._

 _Donald grumbled to himself under the sound of the storm. He should be the one giving orders, not Uncle Scrooge. He had much more sailing experience, even if you counted Uncle Scrooge's time sailing the Mississippi on a riverboat._

 _Donald turned, and he saw that Della was saying something to him. Before he could say, "what," he was surrounded by water, pushing and pulling him this way and that until he couldn't tell up from down. He kicked frantically, trying to break free from its grasp, his lungs unprepared for such an onslaught. He broke through the surface and had just enough time for a gulp of air before he was pulled down again. He struggled against the deadly grip of the sea and surfaced once again, taking in huge lungfuls of air before he was inevitably pulled down again._

 _"Donald!"_

 _Donald couldn't tell if it was his sister or just the wind, but he looked for her, nonetheless. He couldn't find the ship. Where was the ship. It couldn't have gone far, not in this storm; where did it go?_

 _"Donald!"_

 _It was louder this time. Donald turned around and there it was!_

 _Della was standing on deck, holding tightly to the railing with one hand and tossing a life preserver secured with a rope with the other. In this wind, there was no way she could throw it with any sort of precision, but by some miracle, it wasn't too far off the mark. Donald began to swim to it, but another wave pulled him under. He came up coughing and sputtering, but doggedly pressed on until he reached the life preserver. The waves tried to reclaim him, but they were no match for the preserver as Della reeled him in. She helped him back aboard and Donald shook the water off his feathers, though with the rain pouring down around them it didn't make much of a difference._

 _Della started to say something, but Donald brushed her off. He couldn't hear her over the storm, anyway. He marched to the bridge deck and forcefully took the wheel from Uncle Scrooge. He checked their heading and then spun the wheel, turning the boat around. Leave it to Uncle Scrooge to insist on staying on course rather than get out of the storm._

 _Almost as soon as Donald spun the wheel back to its original position to right the rudder, he was engulfed by another wave, holding fast to the wheel to anchor himself to the ship..._

Donald found himself back in his nephews' room, gasping for breath, as another crack of thunder broke through the memory of that storm so long ago.

He'd forgotten about that. It had been years ago, a mere six months after he'd gotten out of the Navy. Scrooge and Della were so happy to have him back, or so they said, but Donald still had the same nagging feeling that he was more of a nuisance than anything else.

Another crack of thunder sent Donald holding tight to his rocking chair, momentarily afraid that another wave would sweep him off the boat. But no; he was ok. He was inside, and the houseboat was docked. Even a storm as bad as that one couldn't reach him here.

During one of the brief respites between waves rocking the boat, Donald made his way over to the cribs and gazed at his nephews. He wanted to hold them, hug them, feel that they were real, that _he_ was real, but he knew from experience that that wasn't worth the risk of waking them up in the middle of the night. So instead he put a hand on Dewey's stomach and felt the rise and fall of his chest, matching it with his own. Outside, the storm finally began to wane-the sound of thunder began to quiet, the waves began to calm, the lightning and thunder became farther and farther apart-and for the first time since the storm had started, Donald was sure that it wouldn't last forever.


	19. Breathe

_**Breathe**_

 _Prompt: Panic Attack_

Lena curled up in the corner of the room, pressing her back against the wall. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking and clammy, and she couldn't breathe. Lena had been through a lot in her life, but this was definitely up there among the worst. Is this what dying felt like? Was _she_ dying?

Lena rested the back of her head against the wall. Tears began to leak out of her eyes. She didn't _want_ to die. She had a _family_ now. She was just starting to get used to having a good, loving family, and the universe wanted to take her away from it. A sob escaped from her throat. It just wasn't _fair_.

"Lena?" Her door suddenly creaked open.

Lena hastily wiped her eyes as Donald stepped into the room.

"Y-yeah?" she said.

Donald frowned. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, of course I am," Lena said, gasping, but immediately realized that nobody would ever believe that. She hung her head. "No."

Donald put a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Lena was quiet a moment. "I think I'm dying."

"What makes you say that?"

"I can't b-breathe, and my heart f-feels like it's trying to r-run away, it's beating so h-hard," Lena said.

Donald felt her forehead, and then her wrist, and nodded thoughtfully. "It looks a lot more like you're having a panic attack than dying," he said.

"H-how to I m-make it stop?" she asked, voice cracking.

"You just have to breathe. Like this." Donald breathed in slowly, held his breath for a second, and then breathed out slowly. "Breathe with me."

Lena paused a moment to parse what he said before trying to match his breathing, but her lungs just wouldn't let her. "I can't!"

"It's ok. Keep trying," Donald said. He started moving his hands up and down with the rhythm of his breathing, and that seemed to help. It took a few more tries until she finally got it, and soon after she started feeling better.

Donald stayed with Lena her hands stopped shaking and she could breathe without choking.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, wiping her sweaty palms on her shirt.

"Want to join me downstairs? I think the kids are watching some _Ottoman Empire_ , but I'm sure they'll do something a little more exciting if you ask."

Lena shook her head. "No thanks. I-I think i want to be alone for a little while."

Donald nodded. "Ok." He stood. "You know where to find me." He left, softly closing the door behind him.

Lena hugged her knees and kept breathing.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	20. Grief

_**Grief**_

 _Prompt: Grief_

First came anger. A lot of anger. Anger at Scrooge. Anger at Della. Anger at the scientists and engineers who'd built the ship. Anger at Scrooge's company for providing the resources to build the ship. Anger at the board of directors for not stopping it. Anger at all of Duckburg for just sitting there, going about their lives like everything was fine when it so clearly/obviously _wasn't_. Anger at the _world_. Even anger at the three eggs that Della had left behind, the eggs that _should_ have been enough to stop her but somehow weren't.

Donald had always had a temper. Even when he was happy and things were going fine, that anger seemed to be there, simmering under the surface, ready to break through at the slightest provocation. Sure, he _tried_ to keep it under control. He read self-help books and took out anger management videos from the library. He tried counting to ten, deep breathing, visualizing relaxing beaches, even going to the gym. And sometimes, those things even worked. For a little while. Until Donald got angry enough that he didn't want to _not_ be angry, and then he blew his top and all the hard work he'd done trying to keep his temper in check. And that would be that until the next time he decided he needed to tame his temper because he broke something or hurt himself or (once) scared someone.

But now? Now that anger was there constantly. It was there when Donald tidied up the boat. It was there when Donald checked his bank account. It was there when Donald hunted for a job. It was there when Donald made dinner for himself. It was there when he checked on the eggs, making sure they were warm and safe and in no danger of falling and breaking and _dying_ just like-

Sometimes, Donald hated those eggs. They were the real reason that Della was gone. Of course, he'd never say it out loud, and logically, he knew that Scrooge and Della were really the ones at fault, but if Della hadn't laid those eggs, she'd still be here, safe and sound. Of course, they'd all been ecstatic when she had. Everyone had showered her in gifts when they heard the news. Incubators, egg cradles, duckling cradles, blankets, clothes, bottles, carriages. Someone had even gotten her a blender as a replacement (or supplement; three babies was a lot) for regurgitating the babies' food. And Della had smiled and laughed and accepted the gifts graciously, even writing thank you notes. Donald had moved the eggs from their makeshift cradle to the much-nicer store bought one, and Della had shut the rest of the gifts away in one of the spare rooms of the Manor and gone back to her planning and researching for all the adventures she would have as soon as those eggs hatched.

And then she found out that Scrooge had built the _Spear of Selene_ , and, well.

That was that.

Typical Della, running away from commitment and change. It hadn't been the first time, but why did it have to be the last?

If she hadn't laid those eggs, she'd still be here. She'd never have gone out adventuring on her own. Scrooge and Donald would have gone with her, and together they would have made sure that all three got home safely.

Sometimes...sometimes Donald found himself wishing he could trade those eggs to have his sister back. He wasn't usually serious, exactly. If some genie had come down and offered to give him Della back in exchange for the eggs, he would have said no. One life for the price of three was a lot, even if those three hadn't hatched yet.

Right?

Ok, there were definitely times he would have said yes without a second thought. Donald was so _alone_. He didn't even have a support group. He clearly couldn't trust Scrooge anywhere near the eggs (not that he _would_ have), Gladstone was always off on some free cruise or vacation (not that Donald would have trusted him with the eggs, either), and Fethry was always off prancing all over the world as if he were a nomad. There was Grandma, but she lived clear on the other side of town. And besides, she was _old_. She'd already raised two generations of ducks; it wasn't fair to make her raise a third, no matter how good her health was.

They'd all come in when they heard the news, of course. There was no funeral. How could there be? There was no body. And without a funeral, Donald could almost believe that she was still out there, somewhere. _Almost_. It almost made it easier that way. But sometimes, he thought it'd have been better if they'd had a funeral. It would have been hard-it would have been one of the worst days of his life-but at least it would be done and over with. Like ripping the band aid off. It would hurt a lot at once, but make things easier going forward. Well, as easy as they could be.

Instead, Donald was forced to slog through each day without her. Those eggs made it awfully hard, sometimes.

Until they hatched.

Once they hatched, everything changed. Donald was alone, as he always was, though he called Grandma up on the phone to come over to lend a hand and meet her first great grandbabies. And once that was done, she left, promising to check in soon and to be there if he needed her. And Donald was left with three tiny, helpless baby ducklings.

And he knew _immediately_ , as soon as those cracks appeared on little Huey's shell, that he would never, _ever_ let any harm come to them. If a genie came and offered him his sister back in exchange for these babies, the answer would be a resounding, unhesitating no. His temper finally retreated back under the surface, still there, like it always was, but hiding away and making room for other emotions, like love and even happiness. For the first time since Della had disappeared, Donald had something to live for. With the eggs, he'd just been going through the motions, like doing your schoolwork because you _had_ to and were in the habit of it rather than because you cared. But now? These babies were his life.

Donald would die for these ducklings. And he would never forgive Della for dying in spite of them.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	21. Red

_**Red**_

 _Prompt: Thrown Against Something_

Lena and Webby backed up against the cave wall.

"Isn't this just delicious?" Magica said. "I've got you just where I want you!"

"Let us go, Aunt Magica!" Lena yelled, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "When Mr. McDuck finds us-"

"Oh, posh, do you really think _he's_ going to save you?" Magica said.

"Of course he will!" Webby said. "He'd never leave us behind!"

"Oh, I never said he would," Magica said, grinning. "But try as he might...I have a feeling he's going to fail."

Magica raised her staff and took aim at her former shadow. Webby jumped in front of her best friend.

"If you want to get to Lena again, you'll have to go through me, first," she said.

Before Lena could tell Webby to stop, Magica flicked her staff and flung Webby against the wall, and Webby stayed there, unmoving.

Lena saw red.

She lunged at Magica, taking her off-guard, and punched and clawed at her. Magica tried to hit back, to raise her staff, but Lena was too close for Magica to be able to use her staff effectively.

"Why can't you leave me and my family alone?" Lena said, forcing Magica back.

"Family? They're not-"

"They are my family, and no matter what you do, you can't take them away from me!" Lena said. She kicked Magica in the kneecap, and Magica crumpled to the floor. Lena grabbed her by the collar.

"You aren't going to hurt me or my family _ever_ again!" she said. Her eyes began to glow, and Magica shielded her eyes from the bright light.

"Now, Lena," Magica said apologetically.

 _Fake, fake, fake,_ rang through Lena's head. Leave it to Magica to suddenly change her tune at the first sign that she might get hurt.

"Lena," Webby said from the opposite wall of the cave. Lena looked over at Webby and relief flooded through her chest. _She was ok._

"Lena, put her down," Webby said. Lena looked down and found that she was levitating a few inches off the ground, and Magica...Magica was _sweating_. Not that she didn't deserve what was coming to her, but Lena wasn't sure she wanted to be the one to give it to her.

Lena let go of Magica and floated gently down to the ground. Magica scrambled away and reopened the cave's entrance before bolting. Lena curled up on the floor, and Webby gingerly stood up and came over to her.

"Lena? Are you ok?" she asked.

Lena took a shaky breath. "Yeah. I think so. At least, I will be." She looked up at Webby. "Are _you_ ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Webby said. She offered her hand and Lena took it, using it to pull herself up. "Let's go find Uncle Scrooge."

"Sounds like a good idea," Lena said, and together, off they went.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	22. Reverse Psychology

**Reverse Psychology**

 _Prompt: Threats_

"If I can't have your nephew, no one can!" Glomgold screamed. He pulled a sgian-dubh out of his kilt spats and held it to Donald's throat.

"Careful now, Flinty," Scrooge said quietly. "Don't do anything yer goin' t' regret later."

"Oooooh, I won't regret anything, McDuck!" Glomgold said. " _You'll_ be the only one regretin' around here!"

Scrooge caught Donald's eye. He looked more...bewildered than anything else. That gave Scrooge an idea. He shrugged.

"All right then, Flinty. You win," he said, turning as if to leave.

The kids began to protest.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"You're not-"

"You can't!"

"Eh, he was never really much use to me anyway," Scrooge said. "Maybe Glomgold can get more out of him."

Donald scowled.

"Uh, Uncle Scrooge-"

"More trouble than he's worth, always messing everything up," Scrooge continued. "Maybe _I'll_ get more out of him if he sticks with ol' Flinty!"

Donald's face began to turn red, and the kids were _really_ starting to look antsy.

"Uncle Scrooge, you might want to-"

"Yes, I think this arrangement will work out nicely," Scrooge said. "We'll do just fine without Donald around."

 _"Just fine? I'll show you 'just fine!'"_ Donald started quacking and struggling. With his temper in full swing, he easily pulled free from Glomgold's grasp and took on his patented Donald Duck Fighting StanceTM. He quickly became a blur as he fought against Glomgold and his goons.

"Uh-oh. Uncle Donald's mad," Huey said.

"Yeah, just a little," Louie said sarcastically.

"Is this...normal?" Webby asked.

"Yep," Dewey said.

"Retreat!" Glomgold yelled. His goons took off, and he followed along behind, panting. "Curse you, McDuck!" he shouted. "You can have your stupid nephew back!"

The kids cheered and crowded around their uncle, and Scrooge couldn't help but allow himself a smug smile. He joined them.

"You knew all along I was just bluffing, didn't you, Donald?" Scrooge said, slapping his nephew's back.

Donald continued breathing heavily, fists clenched at his sides, face slowly returning to its normal color.

Scrooge awkwardly patted him on the back. "Yes. Well, let's be off! We still have an ancient idol to find!"

The kids cheered again, and Huey pulled out the map. He and Scrooge consulted it briefly and nodded to each other.

"This way!" Scrooge said, pointing his cane in the right direction, and they continued on their adventure. _Sans_ Glomgold this time.

* * *

 **A/N: "kilt spats" refers to the kilt hose that are part of traditional Scottish Highland dress, but since Glomgold doesn't wear any sort of socks, I went with spats.**

 **Please review!**


	23. Housewarming

_**Housewarming**_

 _Prompt: Drowning_

"I can't believe he's finally done it," Scrooge muttered.

"Hush," said Beakley from behind a large plant. The two of them were standing on the pool deck in front of Donald's newly repaired, finally refurbished, and freshly painted houseboat.

The kids came up behind them. Webby was holding a Tupperware container of freshly baked cookies, Huey was holding a homemade welcome mat (through which he earned his latch hook badge), and Dewey and Louie were empty-handed.

"So...are we going to go in?" Huey asked.

Scrooge sighed. "I guess it's now or never."

Mrs. Beakley elbowed him sharply in the side, and the group walked up the gangplank. They could see Donald putzing around inside, straightening the curtains, adjusting the hors d'oeuvres. Dewey knocked on the door.

Donald opened the door wide. "Welcome!" he said, smiling broadly. "Come on in!"

They all went inside, Donald graciously accepted the gifts, and he gave them a tour, which was half-redundant since the boat had been restored to pretty much exactly how it had been before Dewey had blown it up. But Huey played along, while Dewey made a nuisance of himself by hoity-toity questions about interior design that were really nonsense and Louie had his eyes glued to his phone.

After that, they went back outside and Donald put life jackets on all four of the kids. Then, he gave them a tour of the main deck, which wasn't much of a tour because any rear-facing window of the Manor provided a better view of the deck than anyone could get while on it. And then, because it was a nice day, Donald brought his hors d'oeuvres (and Webby's cookies) outside and they all snacked and mingled and continued to admire the houseboat.

"I love it when Uncle Donald makes these horse things," Dewey said, his mouth full.

 _"Hors d'oeuvres,"_ Huey corrected, not for the first time.

"Me, too," Louie said. "It's almost like being at a fancy rich people party."

"Remember that week when Uncle Donald was a caterer? That was the best," Dewey said.

"Yeah. Too bad they wanted him to cater that expedition to that volcano," Huey said.

"Mr. Duck really did a good job on his boat," Webby was saying to her grandmother farther up the boat.

"He did, didn't he?" Mrs. Beakley said. She ran a finger along the edge of the hull and checked it. No dust, no paint, not even a splinter. Just a little water.

"Does this mean they're going to move out?" Webby asked.

"It's hard to say," Mrs. Beakley said. "If they do, I'm sure it'll just be back to the harbor."

Scrooge was standing next to Donald over by the gangplank. "Ye did...a fine job on this bucket of bolts."

"Thanks, Uncle Scrooge!" Donald said, beaming.

"I suppose this means ye'll be gettin' out of my pool soon."

Donald's smile faded. He looked around uncertainly. "Well-"

Scrooge took a step and slipped in one of many puddles of water dotting the deck (hey, it was a boat, and it had rained yesterday, ok?). Everything slowed down. Scrooge's arms flew out to try to regain his balance. Donald reached out to him, trying to grab him before he fell. But gravity was too strong, and Donald was too slow. Scrooge fell backwards, over the gangplank, and Donald dove in one last attempt to save him, but it was no use.

Scrooge hit the water with a splash.

Conversation ceased. Everybody rushed to look over the edge of the boat.

"Don't just stand there gawking!" Scrooge said, splashing and spluttering. "Somebody help me out of here!"

Donald tore off his hat and dove off the side of the ship in a graceful swan dive. He grabbed his uncle and pulled him to the side of the pool. Scrooge grabbed onto the pool wall and gasped for breath. Donald climbed out of the pool and offered Scrooge a hand, pulling him out and onto the pool deck.

The kids started running off of the boat to where their uncles were, but quickly slowed to a speed walk after Mrs. Beakley's bellow of "Walk!"

"Are you ok, Uncle Scrooge?" Webby said.

"I'm fine," Scrooge said, shaking the water out of his hat.

"Go inside and get changed. I'll dry your clothes," Mrs. Beakley said.

Scrooge grumbled but headed to the Manor just the same.

Twenty minutes later, the housewarming party was back in full swing. Dewey had resumed shoving his face full of hors d'oeuvres. Mrs. Beakley was marveling over said hors d'oeuvres (very surprised, Donald noticed). Huey had settled in a corner with Webby to teach her how to latch hook. Scrooge and Louie were going over the final expense list for the repairs with Donald (who noticed that they, too, were very surprised. In a good way).

There was just one difference. In addition to the scowl he wore (now puffed up and distorted), Scrooge McDuck was wearing a life jacket.

* * *

 **A/N: There appears to be a hack/virus going around the site right now, so I won't be updating Ducktober 2018 here until it has been resolved. If you want to continue to read it, you can find it on AO3, where my username is RadarsTeddyBear :)**


	24. Exchange

**A/N: The virus/hack that was going around seems to have been resolved, so I'm back to crossposting here!**

* * *

 _ **Exchange**_

 _Prompt: Surrender_

"Let her go, Magica!" Scrooge said, panting.

Magica De Spell smiled, knowing she had him right where she wanted him.

It was just Scrooge, Magica, and Lena. Donald, Beakley, and the kids were at home. Launchpad was back at the airfield. Scrooge had no cell phone, no satellite phone, no radio, not even a flare. Just his wits, his cane, and a bit of food and water.

And Magica had Lena.

Shadows poured out of her eyes like oil, flowing down her limbs until they met with Magica's fingers like the strings of a marionette. She quivered painfully, and Scrooge could see that she was desperate to break free from Magica's grasp.

"I might consider a trade," Magica said, her grin broadening and her eyes narrowing.

"Name your terms," Scrooge said. His voice was low and dangerous.

"That's just music to my ears." Magica pulled, watching as Lena stiffly responded to her slightest touch. "A mere dime seems like too much of a bargain, now," she said. She moved her finger to make Lena nod. "Yes, Lena's life is worth _much_ more than ten cents."

Magica moved her fingers again to make Lena stroke her chin almost thoughtfully, and Lena cried out when her rigid muscles were forced to move.

"All of Duckburg...no, I've already had that, and it's not all it's cracked up to be." Magica made Lena clumsily scratch her head, messing up her hair. "Your Money Bin would be quite lovely, but it's not exactly portable. Hmmm." Magica stopped moving Lena around to stroke her own chin. "Maybe some of those artifacts you've collected over the years."

"You'll have to be more specific than that," Scrooge said.

"Well, it purely depends on what you've got," Magica said. "I might just have to see for myself."

"I'm not waiting until we fly all the way back to Duckburg and you have yourself a shopping trip before you free Lena," Scrooge said.

Magica grinned again. "I guess I'll just have to raise my price."

Scrooge clenched his fists tightly to keep himself from attacking Magica right then and there. He knew from experience that it would only hurt Lena more and Magica not at all.

"How about a life for a life," Magica said. "Your life...for hers."

Scrooge blinked, his mind rapidly going through any possible way out of this. But he found none.

"Oh, and your dime, as well, of course," Magica said.

Scrooge looked at Magica with pure hate and anger, more intense than he had felt in a long time. But he had no choice. He took a step forward and held out his hand. "Deal."

Lena cried out. Magica stepped forward to meet Scrooge, dragging Lena along with her, and shook his hand.

Scrooge had to resist the urge to flip her over his shoulder. Not until Lena was free.

"Do I have your word that you will free Lena and leave her alone?" Scrooge said.

"You have my word," Magica promised.

Scrooge bowed his head and took his Number 1 Dime out from under his shirt. Magica took her purple talisman, around her neck instead of atop her staff today, and, in a flash of light, freed Lena from her spell. Lena dropped to the ground, gasping and coughing. Scrooge held out his dime.

"No!" Lena croaked, reaching out toward Scrooge, but it was too late. In another flash of light, Scrooge was gone, sucked back into the dime that had held Magica for fifteen years.

Magica laughed gleefully and used her talisman to create a purple bubble of magic around herself. And then she floated away with her prize, leaving Lena alone in the middle of nowhere.

Just as she'd promised.


	25. Adventure

_**Adventure**_

 _Prompt: Outnumbered_

Ahhh, the smell of adventure! There was nothing quite like it. Some people preferred warm beds, clean clothes, a solid roof over their head, but Scrooge McDuck? Give him a sleeping bag, week-old garb, and a tent under the stars any day. Well, as long as there was some sort of treasure or discovery at the end of it.

And he was with the best two adventurers he'd ever met, his niece and nephew. Della, who was daring, courageous, sharp, and clever, and Donald, who was daring, courageous, infelicitous, and had a temper to rival any he'd ever encountered (which was really saying something, considering where the lad came from). Well, sometimes. But probably most of the time.

Today, they were exploring the jungles of South America in the hopes of finding the lost Treasure of Lima. A real pirate treasure with a real treasure map-well, part of a real treasure map. But that was just fine! It just made it an even bigger adventure!

Scrooge and Della poured over the partial map, comparing it with a current map to try to fill in the gaps.

"Maybe if we go north…"

"No, no. The path picks up again over here. We have to go east."

"But there's a mountain to the east. We have to go around it."

"Bah! We can climb over the mountain."

"That'll take too long, and we don't have the right supplies."

"Uh, guys?"

"But if we go around the mountain, we have to pay a toll-"

"Guys?"

"Well, we could try flying over the mountain, but I don't know if there's any place to land that way-"

"Guys!"

"-and we'd have to go back to the airport-"

"Della and Uncle Scrooge!" Donald shouted.

"What?" his sister and uncle said at the same time.

Donald wordlessly pointed. Della and Scrooge followed his finger and found that they were completely _surrounded_ by dozens of locals.

Della and Scrooge exchanged a grin and shifted into a fighting stance, back to back. Donald joined their formation, though he was fighting the urge to duck and cover.

"They must be from that village on the map," Della said as they began to rotate around in concert, she and Scrooge daring their adversaries to attack.

"Maybe we missed a toll somewhere back there," Donald said.

"Nonsense! I mapped out all the tolls in this country before we came," Scrooge said.

"Tell _them_ that."

One of the men said something in Spanish, and they drew their weapons.

"Maybe if we just-"

But Donald was cut off by the sound of a war cry, and suddenly everybody was fighting around them.

Scrooge expertly used his cane to fend off their attackers. He glanced over and saw Della holding her own with naught but her fists. And Donald...Donald was standing around, getting poked and prodded and clubbed when he wasn't looking, which was only serving to make him madder and madder until he finally lost his temper and started yelling and swinging. He attacked their assailants left and right with a fervor that, not for the first time, made Scrooge glad that his nephew was on his side.

But no matter how many of the locals they took down, there were always more. Scrooge could feel the energy around them change, and not in a good way.

"Uncle Scrooge, I think it's time for a tactical retreat!" Della said.

"I think you may be right!" Scrooge said. "Do ye still have those smoke bombs?"

"Yeah."

"On three," Scrooge said.

Della pulled a smoke bomb from her pocket, and Scrooge covered her as she lit it.

"One, two, three!"

Della threw the bomb as hard as she could, creating what looked like a forest fire in the making in the trees.

"Time to go, Donnie!" Della said, pulling him by the collar.

 _"Wak!"_

The three sprinted in the other direction, ducking into the forest and quickly losing their attackers.

"Maybe-" Donald panted. "Maybe we should give up on the treasure."

"Give up?" Della said. "Why would we ever do that?"

"The natives here clearly don't want us around!" Donald said.

"When has that ever stopped us before?" Scrooge said.

"Maybe it should," Donald said, glaring at them. "They are people too, you know, and they have a greater claim to that treasure than we do."

"Yer not wrong," Scrooge said. "At the very least, we should probably head back to town and regroup."

"All right," said Della. She and Scrooge consulted the map once again, this time to retrace their steps instead of hunt for treasure.

"This way," Della said, pointing, and off they went, staying in the woods to avoid running into any more angry locals.


	26. Trapped

**_Trapped_**

 _Prompt: Gagged_

"But you shouldn't be checking at all! The Other Bin is far too dangerous!" Scrooge said.

"It's on me," Lena said, still feeling guilty about what had happened earlier. "I wanted to see your dime, and we overheard you were keeping it here, and-"

"Sorry, Uncle Scrooge," Webby said.

"Ye should know by now that if you want to know something, all you have to do is ask," Scrooge said, and Lena's heart clenched. "Be straight with me, lassie. What if you were lost? Or hurt? Or eaten by the dragon?"

If any of those things ever happened to Lena, all Aunt Magica would care about was that she wouldn't have a lackey to get her revenge on Scrooge.

Webby hugged Scrooge, and they began to walk away. "Aw, man! There's a dragon in here?"

"Bleh!" said Magica, clearly disgusted by the display of affection. "Now, listen to your aunt, and grabbed the dime, grab the dime!" Magica whispered in Lena's ear.

Anger surged in Lena's chest. "No! Family is supposed to help you, not hold you hostage!

"They'll turn on you! Call you a monster!"

But the niggling doubt that Aunt Magica was right was gone. "You're the monster here! And I know just the hunter to take you down!" And even if Aunt Magica was right...well, Lena never wanted to see Webby turned into a Quacky Patch doll, or anything else, for that matter, ever again.

Lena marched towards Webby and Scrooge.

"Mr. McDuck? There's something I need to tell you." Lena took a deep breath. "My aunt is Ma-" Lena felt something like a tug on her whole body, and her mind started to cloud. She shook her head. "Ma-Ma-" What was happening? Why couldn't Lena speak? She put her hand in front of her mouth and tried to pull the words out. "Ma-aad that I haven't-checked in with...her." Wait, no that wasn't what she wanted to say. "I got to go." No no no no no no no no!

"Well, come on then, lass. Let's get you home to your family."

 _Family?_

Lena tried to open her mouth, to tell Scrooge who her family really was, but she couldn't. It was stuck tight. She tried to take a step, but her feet were stuck, too. She fell to the ground, and Magica's shadow grew over her.

Lena breathed heavily, trying to figure out what on earth was going on. Suddenly, her body felt like it was being covered in static. The feeling sank deep into her bones and she felt sick to her stomach. Her head jerked up, and for a moment, she could have sworn that she was back in the Shadow Realm. That hazy curtain that always separated the Realm from the tangible world was back, but it wasn't quite right. Lena could still feel things, and she knew she still had a body.

"Huh. I didn't know I could do that. Neat." Her voice was intermingled with Magica's, and all she wanted to do was scream. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move.

She was a passenger in her own body.

"As the eclipse nears, my powers grow!" Magica shook Lena's head, and when she spoke again, it was just in Lena's voice. "Guess I'll just have to get the dime myself."

She ran towards Webby and Scrooge. "Hey, where do you guys keep your sharp knives?"

Lena wanted to scream and yell and cry. _It's not me!_ she shouted in her head. _It's Magica De Spell! Get her out of me!_ But no words came out. None, that is, except for Magica's.

Lena watched helplessly as Magica piloted her body upstairs, pretended to call herself on Scrooge's phone, and then let Launchpad drop her off back at the amphitheater.

Lena lost track of time as Magica gathered the ingredients she needed for a potion. She barely attended to Lena's physical needs. Lena wasn't sure if Magica could feel it, but Lena certainly felt her eyelids turn to sandpaper, her mouth become dry, and her stomach grow so empty that her muscles were weak and tired. And she wouldn't stop monologuing to herself about what she was going to do. In her own voice, in Lena's voice, in Scrooge's voice-because that was apparently something else Magica had the ability to do. But Lena couldn't say anything even in her own voice.

Lena would have given anything to regain control of her body for a few minutes. Just long enough to get a message to Scrooge or Webby. They needed to know what was going on. It was too late to worry about what they'd think about her if they knew the truth. If they didn't know the truth, people were going to get hurt.

Some time later, Lena found her body being walked to McDuck Manor. She knew what Magica was planning to do (boy, did she know; Magica wouldn't stop talking about it), and she was _scared_.

"Big day, Magica, real big day," Magica said in her own voice but through Lena's beak. "The eclipse is at hand, my plan is flawless-"

Fear giving her strength, Lena was able to gain a small measure of control. She dropped to her hands and knees and expelled Magica from her body, painfully throwing her up out of her eyes and mouth, forcing her back into her shadow form. But Magica refused to release her grip.

"Let me go!" Lena said, pulling away, but Magica's tendrils wrapped around her head and pulled her back.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you were here," Magica said.

"I won't let you do this!" Lena said.

"Yeah, uh-huh. Oh, except at the moment of the eclipse, my powers will finally unleash, and I'll be an invincible juggernaut of dark magic! So, you know." Magica reentered Lena's body the same way she left, and it was definitely one of the more painful moments of Lena's life.

"Now that you've gained the trust of Scrooge's brats, I can use your body to get inside the house. Then, I'll weaken Scrooge with this," Magica held up the potion she'd been working on all these weeks, "snatch the number one dime, at the height of the eclipse, unleash my full power, and use it to destroy everything Scrooge has ever loved!" Magica laughed, and Lena felt her gut twist. _Everything Scrooge has ever loved_. That included just about everything that Lena cared about, too.

Why hadn't she yelled and screamed for help when she'd had the chance?

A limousine came rushing by, knocking Magica off of Lena's feet. Magica ran and hid in the bushes as Launchpad rambled into the speakerphone about Scrooge's family moving out and Launchpad wanting to take him out for ice cream.

" _Out?_ Moved? Ice cream? Without those kids to let me in, how am I supposed to get my evil, evil vengeance?" Magica pulled on Lena's eyelids in frustration, and _ow._ "No, I will defeat Scrooge McDuck. I am the dark shadow lying in wait. I am the stuff of nightmares lurking in the hidden recesses of your mind. I. Am-"

Magica screamed and dove out of the way as Launchpad backed into the bush she'd been hiding in.

She stood. "All right. I just have to convince Scrooge that I'm a typical little girl."

Magica skipped Lena's body over to the speakerphone and pressed the buzzer. She adopted a stupid, vapid expression that Lena had never willingly worn in her life. "Gee whiz, mister. It's me, that insufferable whelp, Lena? The little urchins invited me over to, uh, what do children like, play marbles?"

 _No! Don't believe her! Don't let me in!_

"The children are gone. Leave me alone. Forever."

Huh. Maybe Scrooge _had_ heard her, after all.

Magica punched the speakerphone with Lena's fists, which also hurt. Magica's blatant disregard for the body she was borrowing was nowhere near the worst thing that was happening, but it certainly didn't help, either.

Lena felt Magica get an idea, and she strained against her, trying to interfere, get her own message out. But it was no use.

"Aw, shucks. Webby said this would happen."

"What did she say?"

"That you wouldn't be able to handle the kids leaving and have an old man meltdown. I thought better than you. Guess I was wrong."

Lena hadn't known Scrooge McDuck for very long, but she knew him well enough to know that his pride wouldn't stand for such a jab, no matter what he was going through.

Sure enough, the gate swung open.

Magica continued monologuing as she walked up to the front door, and that was _definitely_ on the list of "things that really, really suck right now." Lena was almost thankful when such a disheveled, depressed Scrooge opened the door that Magica shut up.

Magica followed Scrooge with Lena's body into the disgusting, dirty house. Magica stepped into a slice of pizza.

"Ugh. How long has your housekeeping staff been gone?"

"Three days," Scrooge said, holding up an equal number of fingers. Man, this guy had _no_ coping skills.

"So, how are my so-called 'kin'? Miserable, no doubt, living on that disgusting boat? I'm obviously doing much better than they are." Before Magica could answer, Scrooge started chasing a possum with a broom.

This time, it was Magica who expelled herself from Lena's body. Lena wasted no time.

"Scrooge!" she shouted, but Magica quickly clamped her beak shut with a shadowy tendril.

"That sad sack of feathers is _not_ Scrooge," Magica said as Lena fought against her gag, desperate for Scrooge to notice what was going on.

Lena grabbed a nearby pigeon and threw it at her captor, but, Magica being a shadow, it didn't do much.

"The Scrooge McDuck I know is a shrewd, conquering hero of legend."

They both watched as Scrooge rolled listlessly across the floor, tried and failed to reach a nearby slice of pizza, and pulled a second one out of his greasy, dirty undershirt. If Lena wasn't already half throwing up Magica's shadow, she probably would have puked.

"Unless...this is all a trick! Yes, that's it! Of course! He senses something! He's trying to convince me he's a pathetic loser, hoping I'll make a mistake! Ha ha, you can't fool me, Scroogey! I am the one who fools!"

Scrooge pushed himself along the floor and underneath a pizza box.

Magica's shadow took the vial of poison from Lena.

"One sip, lights out, grab the dime! Then, I enact my vengeance!"

Lena continued to fight, trying to say something, _anything,_ but she was trapped.

"Thanks for the pep talk, _Lena!"_

Lena wanted to cry as Magica sucked herself back into her body.

The phone rang. Scrooge clearly wasn't going to answer it, so Magica answered it, instead. Lena recognized the voice on the other end as Launchpad, inviting Scrooge to some sort of party.

"I'll be there," Magica said with Lena's beak in Scrooge's voice. Oh, how Lena wished she could butt in. Launchpad wouldn't know what to do, but Lena could hear Webby with him, and she would definitely be able to do something. "But I'll only eat the finest lobster caviar canapes. And make sure no one starts eating until I get there, as I consider it the height of rudeness. Bless me bagpipes, good day." Magica hung up the phone and rubbed her hands. "Dinner officially ruined. Hm! Now. Back to destroying Scrooge."

"Where is that blasted nutmeg tea?"

"Oooh, convenient!" Magica took the poison out of Lena's shirt and switched back to her voice. "Don't worry, I'll get it!"

Magica easily made the tea and gleefully poured the poison in. She went to find Scrooge and gasped whens he found him moving a tower of pizzas into one of the bedrooms.

"One man's nephews' former bedroom is another man's pantry, I always say," he said between grunts. The pizzas toppled over onto him.

"He is very committed to this looking pathetic trap." Magica walked over and pulled the boxes off of him. "Have some tea. It'll settle you," she said in Lena's voice.

"Thanks," Scrooge said, lifting the cup. Lena wanted to shout, to knock it out of his hand, but then he set it down on a pile of boxes, and Lena's panicking levels went back down even while Magica seethed in frustration.

Scrooge moved some pizza boxes out of the way and found a loose floorboard. He started rambling about the stuff his nephews had left behind inside, but between trying to regain control and Magica angrily trying to get him to drink the tea, Lena couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Yeah, there's nothing worse than marbles," Magica said with a fake laugh that rivaled the fakest of Lena's own fake laughs. "Tea?"

"I'm talking about family!" Scrooge snapped.

"Ugh, tell me about it," Magica said, sitting Lena's body on a pile of pizza boxes. "They disobey you, run you ragged, don't follow through on elaborate revenge plots…"

Lena felt hope rise in her chest. If Magica went ahead and exposed herself, all of Lena's problems would be solved.

"They spend your money, take over your home, cause trouble, worm their way into your head with fond memories that you cannae get out, no matter how hard you try!"

Lena felt about ready to _explode_.

Magica slid over with the tea. "Cheers to ridding fond memories!"

But Scrooge walked right past her and plopped down on a throne made of pizza boxes. "And _then_ they leave without so much as a thank you."

"Forget family. Who needs 'em?"

"I'll drink to that!" Scrooge said, taking the tea.

 _No!_

And by some miracle, a pizza box fell on top of Scrooge and made him spill the poisoned tea.

"Of all the idiotic-" Magica said, slipping into her own voice. Seriously, how did Scrooge not have any idea what was going on? "-I mean I'll go make you another."

Magica added poison to a second cup of tea and brought it to Scrooge, who was now slumped in a chair (an actual one this time, not made out of pizza boxes).

"Here! Tea! This time in a convenient no-spill cup!"

"Finally, without those kids dragging me off on rip-roaring, unforgettable adventures, I can just sit here in peace. Stare vacantly at my money, and sulk like an earned recluse."

Magica looked out the window, and Lena could see that the eclipse was getting closer.

"On an unrelated note, how's that tea?"

Scrooge let the cup drop from his hand. "Spilt. Like my life."

Magica was so angry that Lena could actually feel it. It took a lot of concentration to remember that the anger wasn't her own.

"Oh my word, it's not a trap. He's actually become this pathetic." Magica turned to Scrooge. "How dare you make me pity you! This is not how I pictured killing you in my head for the last fifteen years!"

There was no way that Scrooge wouldn't realize now.

"Go on, scram now! Let me wallow in peace" Scrooge said, and Lena could not believe that anyone could be this dense.

Magica slapped Scrooge across the face and went back to using Lena's voice.

"Toughen up, man! You conquered Plain Awful, you found the last crown of the Mongols, you even defeated some very powerful dark forces! You don't need family, you're Scrooge McDuck! Act like it!"

 _Yeah, act like it and get me out of this mess!_ Lena wanted to scream.

"I am Scrooge McDuck!" he said as if he were just realizing it for the very first time. "I was adventuring before them! No one helped me then, and I don't need help now!"

"Yes! They were all in your way, mooching, freeloading, trying to weaken you with compassion and caring!"

"I'm going back to basics. Doggedly driven, bare, barmy Scrooge, flying solo! I don't need Duckburg, or the mansion, or the Bin! I can start from scratch! I dinnae need these pince-nez spectacles," he threw them into the fireplace, "this handmade silk top hat," that too, "these satin spatterdashes." Those went into the fire as well, along with his robe, leaving him in just his greasy, dirty undershirt, just like when they'd first arrived. "Yes, yes! I don't need anything!"

"Not even your Number One Dime!" Magica said behind him.

"Well, that's crazy. Of course I need my dime," Scrooge said, taking it out from under his shirt.

"What about starting from scratch? Just give me the dime, and I'll throw it away for you!"

"Why would a young lass be so interested in getting her hands on my old Number One Dime?" Scrooge asked.

 _Now_ he was getting suspicious?

Magica looked out the window and both she and Lena saw that the moon was almost covering the sun.

"Maybe you should be going," Scrooge said, replacing the dime underneath his shirt, and Magica pounced on him.

"Lena, what the-have you gone daft?" Scrooge said, struggling against her. He pushed her off of him, but she immediately ran back at him.

Scrooge pushed against her head to hold her back.

"I'm not gonna fight a child!" Scrooge said, but then Magica bit him (with _Lena's_ beak-he tasted like sweat and pizza grease; gross). "Ok, fine!"

Scrooge kicked at her, but Magica easily dodged it and landed a few well-placed hits of her own, sending Scrooge down hard. She took the dime off his neck and put Lena's foot on his head to keep him down just as the moon eclipsed the sun.

Magica exited Lena's body, again through her eyes and mouth but much more easily this time. Lena felt lightheaded and weak, too weak to speak now that she was finally free of her gag, and she fell to the floor, vaguely aware of Magica laughing in the background.


	27. Sad

_**Sad**_

 _Prompt: Shoulder to Cry On_

Webby sighed as she listlessly drew in the dirt with a stick in the backyard. She was feeling lonely today. The nephews were great to have around-well, they were more than great, actually-but they alone couldn't fill up her heart, and the hole inside it felt especially big.

Webby looked at the ground and found that she had drawn two stick figures. Webby smiled as she added a bob to the shorter one and a swoop of hair to the taller one. But then the figures blurred behind a sheen of water and Webby dropped the stick to bury her face in her hands.

"Webby!" Dewey's voice called. "Webby, are you out here?"

Webby took a deep breath and wiped her face. "Yeah, I'm over here!"

Dewey ran over and slid to a stop in front of her. "Hey, Webby, do you want to-hey, are you ok?"

"Yeah," Webby said, trying to remember Louie's lessons on lying. But Dewey didn't look convinced, and she sighed. "No."

Dewey glanced over at the picture Webby had drawn in the dirt. "Ohhhhhhhh." He thought for a minute. "Do you want to...do something? Get your mind off of things?"

Webby shook her head. "No. I don't think so."

"Ok." Dewey sat down next to her. "Would it help if I stuck around?"

Webby drew a shaky breath. "Yeah," she said. "I think it would."

Dewey scooted closer and put his arm around her. Webby put her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to be sad for a little while. But somehow, with Dewey there and knowing that the rest of her family was nearby in the Manor and at the Money Bin and in the houseboat, things weren't so bad.


	28. Patched Up

_**Patched Up**_

 _Prompt: Bandaging Wounds_

The kids dragged themselves out of the car and into the Manor. It had been a long, taxing adventure, and nobody was up for much of anything besides vegging out in front of the TV and/or falling asleep. Except for Scrooge, of course, who was practically vibrating with excitement over his new treasure.

"Lena, wanna watch TV? I think Dewey's going to put on _Ottoman Empire_ ," Webby said.

"No thanks," Lena said. "I'm just going to hang out for a bit in my room."

"Ok."

Lena headed upstairs, but instead of going to her room, she went to the bathroom. She took out the first aid kit from under the sink and pulled out the bandaids and the antiseptic wipes. Lena sat down on the closed toilet lid, rolled up her sleeve, and ripped open one of the wipes. She pressed it to a cut on her arm, small but deep, and hissed in pain. She continued to dab at it, and the pain soon faded to a dull burn.

Lena heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and she held her breath. The footsteps walked past the bathroom, and she breathed a sigh of relief. But then, she heard a door open and close, and the footsteps started to come back.

Lena held her breath again as they paused outside the bathroom door. And to her dismay, the door swung open.

Donald stared at her. "What are you doing?"

Lena looked at her arm, and then back at him. "Nothing."

Donald gave her a funny look and then started rummaging through the cabinet under the sink, grumbling to himself. Lena was afraid she was in trouble. She jumped when Donald slammed the cabinet shut.

"I'll be right back."

Lena sat frozen in fear as Donald left the room. Out of everyone who could have discovered that she'd been injured, he was probably the worst. As far as she could tell, he didn't really understand adventuring. He almost always opted to stay home, and he never seemed to be happy to see the spoils of their hunt and the cuts, bruises, rips, and tears they came back with. He'd probably get mad at her for getting hurt, for not being careful enough, for making him change his plans around while he fixed her up instead. And for putting the kids in danger (which, yeah, this time around, she sort of had; accidentally, of course, but adults didn't always care about that), and for being a weak link that would continue to put the kids in danger on future adventures. Or maybe he would think that her cuts had something to do with doing magic, or with Magica. Shoot. Donald would never trust her around his family if he thought she was working with Magica.

Lena jumped again as Donald pushed the door open. He turned on the faucet to get one of the washcloths he'd brought in wet and soapy, and then he knelt down in front of her, setting the rest of the things he'd brought on the floor.

"Let me see," he said.

Lena held out her arm.

Donald looked at it, assessing the damage, before gently starting to clean the cut with the washcloth. Lena bit back another hiss, looking away as tears sprang to her eyes.

After Donald was satisfied, he patted the wound dry with a towel and grabbed a tube of super glue.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Lena asked.

Donald shrugged. "It's always worked for me." He squeezed a bit of glue onto his finger. "And Scrooge." He held Lena's cut closed, making her wince again, and swiped his finger across, sealing it shut.

"There," Donald said as Lena inspected it. "Where else?"

"What?"

"Where else were you injured?"

Lena felt her face grow red. "Oh, no, there's just this one."

Donald raised an eyebrow. Lena sighed in defeat and lifted up her shirt, revealing another cut, this one much longer but also shallower than the first.

Donald got to work, wetting a fresh washcloth and setting to cleaning the second wound. Lena yelped when he pressed the warm cloth to her side.

"Are you ok?" Donald asked, frowning when he saw blood coming off on the cloth.

"Y-yeah," Lena said. She held onto the toilet lid with her free hand to keep herself still.

Donald continued to clean her wound, his frown deepening as the washcloth grew more and more stained with blood. It didn't look like all that much to Lena, but Donald seemed to think otherwise.

"How long has this been bleeding?" he asked.

Lena shrugged.

Donald took a piece of gauze and pressed it against the wound, waiting for the bleeding to stop.

"That must have been some adventure, huh?" Donald said after a minute or two.

Lena shrugged again. "I guess."

Donald blew a puff of air out of his nose and looked around the bathroom. He lifted the gauze to check on the wound, which was still bleeding (just a little bit, though, Lena noticed, and not even out of the whole thing, just the one side), and swapped it out for a fresh piece of gauze.

"So how'd you get these?" Donald asked.

Lena tensed up. "I, uh, I-" she stammered, and then she abruptly stood up and bolted toward the door. "I'm fine now I gotta go-"

Donald pulled her back by the fabric of her shirt. "Oh, no, you don't," he said, and Lena started shaking. Donald pushed her back down onto the closed toilet seat and replaced the gauze on her side, much more firmly this time, and put his other hand firmly on her leg, effectively trapping her there.

"You're not going anywhere until you've been patched up," he said. "Were you planning on telling anybody about these?"

"Um, not-I mean, I was going to, if-"

Donald looked up at her. "Lena, keeping injuries a secret is stupid and dangerous."

Lena nodded, her chest filling up with the same sort of guilt she felt whenever Aunt Magica used to yell at her for doing something wrong.

"You have to let someone know when you get hurt," Donald said. Donald checked the gauze again, and, satisfied, exchanged it one last time for a clean piece and held it to Lena's side. "Hold that."

Lena did, and Donald started wrapping a bandage around her torso to hold it in place.

"If you don't, you'll just get hurt more," Donald continued. "My sister did that once. She ended up spraining her arms so badly that she had to stay home for two months. It drove her crazy."

Donald finished wrapping the bandage and fastened it in place. "Promise that you'll tell someone next time. An _adult_. Scrooge or Mrs. Beakley or even me, if you want." Donald gave her a Look. "Webby alone doesn't count."

Lena nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again. Aunt Magica had always yelled at her when she got hurt. But Donald was only mad that she'd kept it to herself.

"I got too close to one of the booby traps because Huey and I were trying to get a better look," Lena blurted out. She pointed to her arm. "And this one, I tripped and fell on a rock because-because I wasn't paying enough attention to where I was going."

"Is that all?" Donald said. "I did much worse for myself back when I was following Uncle Scrooge all over the world."

"Wait, you used to go on these adventures?" Lena asked.

"Sure. Hasn't Webby told you?

"Maybe," Lena said, shrugging. "After a while, it all runs together, you know?"

Donald chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it does." He stood up. "Did Scrooge warn you away from those booby traps?"

"No," Lena said, then hung her head. "But it was pretty obvious that's what it was. I just didn't realize we'd tripped it."

"Everything's more obvious after the fact," Donald said. He took Lena's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Just take it easy for a few days, ok? And if either of those cuts start hurting or bleeding, let one of us know, ok?"

Lena nodded. "Ok."

"Good." Donald gathered up the glue and the washcloths and the towels he'd brought in. "Welp, I'll be around if you need me." He turned to leave.

"Thanks," Lena said. The word came out a little unnaturally. It wasn't something she'd said a whole lot back when she was still stuck with Aunt Magica, and never with any real sincerity.

Donald smiled. "You're welcome, Lena."

And Lena smiled, too.


	29. Fever

_**Fever**_

 _Prompt: Fever_

Lena lay in bed, sleeping fitfully. Scrooge sat next to her, worry carved into his face. He bathed her hot brow with cool water.

"There, there, lass. Everything's all right. You're safe here."

The door opened and Mrs. Beakley came in carrying fresh linens and a pitcher of water. She shut the door with her foot and put them down on the floor.

"How is she?" she asked.

"Much the same." Scrooge placed his hand on her forehead, frowning when he felt her temperature. "She hasn't woken, but she's not sleeping peacefully, either."

Mrs. Beakley nodded and glanced out the window. Thick snow fell from the sky, as it had been for the last week, preventing anyone from going much of anywhere. It had been a miracle that they'd been able to get a doctor, but there wasn't much she'd been able to do. Just tell them to keep Lena comfortable until the virus ran its course. Call again if her fever rose above 104°F or if she wasn't keeping liquids down.

"I should change the sheets," Mrs. Beakley said.

"Already?" Scrooge rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can't we wait until…" he trailed off, not wanting to put it into words.

Mrs. Beakley pursed her beak. "I'm not sure if that doesn't make it worse."

Scrooge nodded. "All right." He bent down. "Lena, darlin', we're going to change the sheets again, ok?"

Lena, of course, didn't respond. Mrs. Beakley gently lifted her head and removed the pillow from behind it. Scrooge took her head as Mrs. Beakley changed the pillowcase. Lena's breathing remained ragged.

"Aunt Magica...no…" she began to mumble, and her brow furrowed

Mrs. Beakley replaced the pillow under Lena's head and Scrooge gently lowered her head down onto it. Scrooge removed the blankets, and Mrs. Beakley rolled Lena to his side of the bed. Lena startled and cried out, reflexively reaching out to hold onto Scrooge as if she thought she were falling.

"Everything's all right, Lena, we're just changing the sheets," Mrs. Beakley soothed. She removed the half of the dirty sheets on her side of the bed and carefully replaced them with clean ones. Scrooge murmured soothing words to her, hoping that she could hear.

When Mrs. Beakley finished, she nodded, and together, they carefully rolled Lena to the now clean side of the bed. Lena cried out again.

"No, I'm sorry! I tried-don't hurt me!"

Mrs. Beakley and Scrooge switched sides and Mrs. Beakley quickly finished changed the sheets. Scrooge held onto Lena, stroking her hair and reassuring her that she was safe and that nothing bad was happening.

Finally, Mrs. Beakley was done, and Scrooge rolled Lena back to the middle of the bed and tenderly tucked her back in. He held her hand and stroked her forehead, continuing to reassure her, until she she quieted. He drew a weary sigh of relief and sank back down into his chair. Mrs. Beakley changed the tepid water in the bowl at Lena's bedside table for cool water from the pitcher.

"You should get some rest," she said.

Scrooge shook his head. "I'm not leaving this room."

"Then don't leave. Rest in here. I'll watch over her for a while, and if anything happens, you'll be right here."

Scrooge stared at the tween in front of him. He was filled with guilt at the thought of leaving her side, but Beakley was right. He nodded.

"All right," he said, and Mrs. Beakley went to get the blow up mattress.

Lena was walking through the old, abandoned amphitheater that she called home. It looked different than she remembered, even more abandoned, somehow. The wind blew, making Lena shiver. The shadows seemed longer, the columns and structures more crumbling. It seemed darker, too-Lena wasn't sure what time of day it was, but the lighting seemed wrong. It seemed too big in there, too. Or maybe Lena was too small.

"Lena…" a voice said, seeming to circle around her.

Lena spun around.

"Who-who's there?"

"Lena…"

"What do you want?" Lena started walking towards the exit of the amphitheater.

"Lena…"

"Leave me alone!" Lena broke into a run, but no matter how fast she went, she didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

"Lena…"

The voice was getting louder.

"Go away!"

"Lena…" The shadows started to move.

"Leave me alone!"

Lena saw something red and glowing out of the corner of her eye.

"Someone, help!"

The shadows gathered together in front of her, forming a terrifyingly familiar shape. Lena skidded to a stop and tried to run the other way, but the somehow the shadow was still in front of her. It grew and grew until it was about to swallow Lena up, and it grinned.

"Hello, Lena," Aunt Magica said.

Lena threw her arms over her face. "Don't hurt me!"

Duckburg was in ruins. The sky was dark, buildings had turned to rubble, and people were running away from robots and laser beams. Magica floated by in a sphere of pink magic, closely followed by her army of shadows, blasting people left and right. This was Lena's fault. Somehow, it was Lena's fault. She needed to fix it. But how could she fix it?

The world fell away and Lena was on the road leading to McDuck Manor. Magica was there, and so was Scrooge.

"It's payback time, Scroogey," Magica said, and she started to blast him with her magic. Scrooge dodged and ducked, but she still hit him. Again and again and again and again until he was lying in a heap on the floor.

"Stop!" Lena shouted. She wanted to run to him, to make Magica stop, but she couldn't move. "Get up!" she yelled. Magica just laughed and kept blasting him.

"That's what you get for trapping me in your dime!" she said, holding her staff like a cannon.

"No!"

Then Lena was in a small, windowless room. In front of her stood a pedestal with a coin perched on a pillow on top.

"Take the dime!" Magica's eyes, huge, big enough to fit all three of the triplets with room to spare, glowed red in front of her. Lena reached out and took the coin, and electric red magic sizzled out and grabbed her, encasing her in Magica's shadow. Lena tried to run, but she was stuck tight.

Magica pulled herself out of Lena's body, tangible but still a shadow. "Ooooh, that felt good." She finished stepping out of Lena's body, severing their connection. "With the dime in my hands, nothing can stand in my way!"  
Lena ran, but Magica froze her in place and pulled her back until Lena's throat was in her hands.

"You deserve a hug," Magica said, wrapping her cold, shadowy arms around her as she trembled.

Then, Webby came in, having cut through the door with the diamond dagger Lena had left outside. _Run!_ Lena wanted to shout, but her beak wouldn't move.

Magica dropped Lena to the floor and turned her attention to Webby, who quickly noticed that the dime was missing from its pillow. Webby slashed at Magica and told Lena to run.

"Why?" Magica said, curling around Lena. "She's been working for me."

The look of devastation on Webby's face broke Lena's heart. All she could do was look away.

Webby turned and ran, calling for Scrooge, but _zap!_ Magica turned her into a Quacky Patch doll.

"Webby! No!" Lena yelled.

Lena looked at Webby's stuffed form, silently willing her to move. Then she turned to Magica. "What are you doing?"

"Exactly what you've been doing the whole time. Using her. Pulling her strings. Here; allow me to demonstrate the delightful irony." Magica reached into the wall, her arm returning to its two-dimensional shadow form, and fastened her fingers to Webby to turn her into a marionette.

"Scrooge this! Scrooge that!" Magica said in a horrible, mocking imitation of Webby's voice, pulling her around the room. "Pink stuff! Hi, I'm Webster!" Magica switched to her own voice. "Or whatever."

"Her name is Webby!" Lena said.

"Who cares?" Magica shot back, shoving the Webby doll into her face. "I mean, you don't! You were just using her, right? Like a tool! What's the matter? Do you miss your friend?"

"Change her back!" Lena said. "Please! I wasn't using her! She's my friend!"

"Oh, posh," Magica said with a flick of her hand. "A friendship like that would never work out. Especially now that she knows who you are." Magica's form grew, and she reached out her hand. "Now: Give. Me. The dime!"

Magica's hand collided with a shield of magic coming from Lena's amulet.

"No! I'm not your puppet anymore!"

"Is that so?" Magica said, her voice dangerous. "Luckily, I have a spare!"

Lena gasped as Magica used Webby to attack her.

"You're not my friend!" the Webby doll said between blows. "You're a coward! A traitor!"

Lena fell to the ground, and her amulet began to glow.

"No! Webby, this isn't you!"

"I know who you really are: a monster, just like your aunt!"

Webby came at her again, and Lena shut her eyes. She knew what was coming.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not a monster. I didn't want this to happen. I'm sorry..."

But instead of Lena's amulet blasting the Webby Quacky Patch doll to dust, or even said doll crashing into Lena at full force, everything suddenly got...quiet. Lena was lying down on something soft, and her eyes were closed, and something cool and wet was stroking her face. Someone was saying something, too, but she couldn't make out any words. It sounded like...Mr. McDuck? He didn't sound angry or upset, but...

Lena cautiously opened her eyes. She was in her room in McDuck Manor, and Mr. McDuck was sitting at her bedside, very much in one piece. Lena sat up.

"Lena?" Mr. McDuck said, his voice low and soothing.

"What…" Lena started. She concentrated hard, trying to figure out what was going on. "Where's Webby?"

"Webby?" Mr. McDuck said. "Why, I'd imagine she's downstairs with the boys."

"Is-" Lena licked her dry beak. "Is she ok?"

Mr. McDuck looked at Lena first with confusion, and then with some kind of sadness. "She's fine, lassie. _You're_ the one we've all been worried about."

"Me?" Lena said in surprise. "But-"

Mr. McDuck pressed the palm of his hand to her forehead, then felt it again with the back of his hand. He got up and went to the door.

"Beakley!" he called.

Lena had never heard Mrs. Beakley's footsteps go so fast.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Do ye have the thermometer?"

Mrs. Beakley walked right passed Mr. McDuck and went over to Lena. She pressed her own hand against Lena's forehead.

"How are you feeling, Lena?" Mrs. Beakley asked kindly.

How _was_ she feeling? She was kind of tired, and her muscles kind of ached, she still felt kind of uneasy from...well, they must have been dreams, right?

But instead of saying any of that, Lena shrugged. "Ok, I guess."

Mrs. Beakley pulled out the thermometer and slipped it into Lena's mouth. It beeped after a few moments, and she checked it.

"Her fever's broken," she said to Mr. McDuck, relief visible on her face. "You gave us quite the scare, dear."

"I did?"

"You had that fever for four days, from the morning after we got back from Romania," Mr. McDuck said. "You didnae seem to know up from down. Scared us half to death."

"Oh." That was an awfully long time to be so sick. "Did it have anything to do with my...with Aunt-"

"It didn't have anything to do with Magica," Mr. McDuck assured her. "We won't be hearing from her any time soon."

"Good," Lena said. "Can-can I see Webby?"

Mrs. Beakley smiled. "Of course. I'll go get her." She put the thermometer back into her pocket. "How about I get you something to eat, too?"

Now that Mrs. Beakley mentioned it, Lena realized that she was a little hungry.

"Ok," she said.

Mrs. Beakley nodded and left. Barely a minute later, Webby came barreling into the room, clearly forcing herself to slow down after she burst into the room.

"Lena!" she yelled, and then clamped her hands around her beak. "Lena!" she said, much more quietly this time.

"Webby!" Lena said, relieved to see her best friend safe and in one living piece.

"How are you feeling?" Webby asked.

"Ok," Lena said. "What about you?"

"Me? I'm fine," Webby said. She fidgeted next to the bed for a moment, and then asked, "Can I give you a hug?"

Lena smiled. "Well, I think I can allow it, just this once." She held out her arms, ready to reach over the bed, but instead Webby jumped onto the bed and held her tight. Lena returned the embrace. After all those nightmares, feeling Webby safe and warm and _alive_ was the best medicine she could have asked for.


	30. No Longer a Shadow

**_No Longer a Shadow_**

 _Prompt: Cathartic Shower/Bath_

It had been a long day. With the help of Scrooge and Webby and everyone else who lived in McDuck Manor (even that ghost butler, who'd ended up being the key to figuring everything out), Lena had finally escaped from the Shadow Realm. She was a _person_ again. She could run, and jump, and speak, and breathe, and feel, and even hug. She could eat, which was kind of weird after having no need for so long (Scrooge had thought that she'd be starving when she'd gotten out, but surprisingly, she hadn't had much of an appetite). She could drink, which was a lot less weird. Lena loved the feeling of liquid flowing over her tongue and down her throat after so much time not having a mouth.

Mrs. Beakley, having some medical training (because of course she did), had given Lena something of a checkup to make sure that she'd gotten out of the Shadow Realm in one piece (she had), and then they'd had a small party to celebrate that Lena was back. It felt like a dream, and Lena had kept pinching herself to make sure that it wasn't and that she was really real again.

Webby didn't leave Lena's side the whole rest of the day, which was kind of ironic since Lena had spent the last few months literally tied to her, but it was also really nice. Lena liked being able to talk to her best friend again (although sometimes she had to remind herself that she could, in fact, talk and participate in the conversation), and she didn't even mind all the hugs.

The party had been pretty short, though, because Lena was exhausted. There was something about crossing from one world to another that was completely draining. Lena had opted to take a nap in the living room instead of the empty bedroom next to Webby's that Mrs. Beakley was getting ready for her. Lena knew that the room would be too dark, too quiet. Too much like the Shadow Realm. She preferred the sunlight streaming in through the windows and the noise of everyone going about their day, chatting with each other and watching TV and banging around in the kitchen. Webby had hung around nearby, of course, reading and doodling and sometimes whispering things to her when she forgot she was trying to sleep. But Lena didn't mind. She needed all the reminders she could get that she was tangible again.

After Lena's nap, they'd all had dinner, which had a festive atmosphere like it was an extension of the celebration they'd had earlier. Even Donald seemed happy that she was back, which was kind of weird because she didn't know the guy very well, but hey, that certainly wasn't something to complain about.

After dinner, they'd all hung out a bit and watched a movie. Some old thing that Lena had never heard of (then again, Aunt Magica hadn't exactly been one for movie nights), but it was pretty good.

Then, Donald and Mrs. Beakley had sent the kids to bed, and Mrs. Beakley suggested that Lena go take a shower. Which was just about the most parental thing Mrs. Beakley could have told her to do, but Lena didn't mind parental right now.

Lena headed upstairs to the bathroom, where Webby was gathering a few things so she could use one of the other ones before going to bed. Mrs. Beakley came in a few minutes later with a couple of towels and one of those meshy bath pouf things, the tag still on it.

"You can use Webby's soap tonight. I can get you your own tomorrow if you'd prefer something different."

Lena nodded.

"The right side is hot water, the left side is cold, and you pull this knob to turn on the shower. If you'd like to take a bath instead, the drain plug is right here."

Lena nodded again.

"If you need anything, just give a shout," Mrs. Beakley said as she left the room, leaving Lena alone for the first time since she'd exited the Shadow Realm. That is, assuming being in the Shadow Realm counted as being alone, which...eh?

Lena pulled off her sweater and her shirt and turned the water on. As she waited for the water to warm up, she looked at herself.

There was something about her feathers. They seemed dusty and pale, somehow. Lena wasn't sure if it was some sort of remnant from the Shadow Realm. Was shadow dust even a thing? Lena had no idea. She kind of hoped it was, otherwise that might mean that her feathers had permanently turned...blah.

Lena suddenly gasped, snapping back to herself. For a moment, she'd been afraid she was back in the Shadow Realm. It was quiet in here. Too quiet. The noise of the shower faded into white noise, different than the white noise of the Shadow Realm, but still white noise.

Lena climbed grabbed the bath pouf and climbed into the shower. The water was a little too hot, but that was ok. Lena liked it too hot. It hurt a little, but it reminded her that she was no longer a shadow. Nothing was too hot in the Shadow Realm.

Lena basked in the heat and the steam, letting it soak her body and her feathers. It had been a crazy, crazy day. It still didn't feel quite real. But this shower was real. So were the heat, and the water, and the steam. She took Webby's soap and squeezed it out on the bath pouf. She probably took a little too much, but after going so long without bathing (not that she'd had the need to, in the Shadow Realm), Lena figured she was owed.

She worked the soap into the pouf and then scrubbed it along her body, relishing the feeling of the mesh rubbing against her skin. But then Lena felt something scratch her arm. She looked at the pouf and realized that she'd never taken the tag off.

Oh, well.

She scrubbed and scrubbed, careful not to miss any spot on her body. The tag kept scratching her here and there, but that was ok. It was just another reminder that she was _real_ and _here_ and no longer a shadow.

Lena noticed that the water didn't feel quite so hot anymore, so she turned up the hot water tap. She checked her feathers, trying to see if they were regaining their luster, but she couldn't tell through the soap and water. She kept scrubbing anyway. Just to be extra thorough.

Lena looked up and realized that the room had filled with clouds of steam. It was a little like the haze of the Shadow Realm. Lena felt her breath quicken, and she scrubbed herself harder to remind herself that she was whole again. The water cooled again, so she turned up the tap, but the water didn't get any warmer.

"I'm real. I'm real," Lena muttered to herself. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. "I'm real, and I'm not in the Shadow Realm anymore." She shook the water out of her feathers, which, according to Aunt Magica, wasn't something that polite ducks did, but Lena didn't care. She squeezed the water out of the pink feathers on her head and then grabbed a towel and rubbed herself dry. The rough terry cloth stung a little after the rough mesh of the bath pouf, and it messed up her feathers, but Lena kind of preferred it that way.

When she was nice and dry, Lena pulled her shirt and her sweater back on and wiped the steam from the mirror so she could look at herself. Her feathers seemed a little bit brighter, so that was something. But the feathers on her head were a mess, so she rummaged around. Webby wouldn't mind if she used her hairbrush, right?

Lena brushed her hair, sweeping it to the side, and stepped out of the bathroom. The cool air gave her goosebumps, and Lena loved it.

Most of the lights were off, and the house was quiet. Lena made her way downstairs. She could hear someone in the kitchen, and the light was on, so she walked in.

"Ah, Lena," Scrooge said. "I was just making myself some nutmeg tea. Would you like some?"

"No, thank," Lena said.

"What about hot cocoa? I woudnae want all of this hot water to go to waste."

"Ok."

Scrooge took out the cocoa and spooned some into mug, then poured in some hot water. He picked up his own mug and took out the tea bag, carefully setting it down on a plate.

"Why don't we go in and sit a while?" he suggested, handing Lena her cocoa.

Lena followed him out to the living room and settled onto the couch. It was really different in there without the other kids. Much quieter. Much less _Ottoman Empire_.

Lena took a sip of her cocoa. It was good.

"I think we have a lot to catch up on," Scrooge said.

Lena looked into her mug and took a deep breath. "Yeah. I guess we do."


	31. Tucked In

**_Tucked In_**

 _Prompt: Tucked In_

"All right, lass. Let's get you to bed."

Scrooge walked Lena to her new bedroom, a comforting hand on her shoulder. After a bath that had left Lena's skin rubbed raw, she and Scrooge had sat down in the living room, sipping hot cocoa and talking. Talking about Magica, what Scrooge and his family had been up to, what the Shadow Realm was like, how Lena was feeling after everything that had happened, about the concept of family. And how Lena was now a part of theirs.

"Webby's right next door, so she'll be close by if ye need anything," Scrooge said, pointing to Webby's room. He pushed open the door next to it and snapped on the light. "And here's your room."

The first thing that Lena noticed was that it was empty. There was a bed, and a night table, and a dresser, and a door that Lena figured probably led to a closet. The floor was made of wood, and there was an area rug next to the bed. And a window. And that was pretty much it.

"Beakley said she put more blankets in the closet there if ye get cold. I'll have her get ye some pyjamas tomorrow, but tonight I suppose ye'll be stuck with that." Scrooge nodded to Lena's shirt.

"It's ok," Lena said.

Scrooge padded over to the bed and turned down the covers.

"If ye need anything in the night, Webbigail's next door, Beakley's next to her, the boys are down in the south wing, and I'm on the north side," Scrooge said as Lena got into bed. "And Donald's in the houseboat out back, on the off chance that you need him in particular. And ye know you're welcome just about anywhere in the Manor. Webby can show you around tomorrow and tell ye what's off limits. Mostly for yer own safety."

The bed was soft and the blankets worn. They rubbed up against Lena's overscrubbed skin, which stung a little, but not in a bad way. Scrooge pulled the blankets up around Lena so she was tucked in all nice and cozy. Tears sprung to Lena's eyes, and she wasn't quite sure why. Impulsively, she threw her arms around Scrooge.

"Thank you, Uncle Scrooge," Lena said, burying her face in his shirt.

For a single, terrifying moment, Lena was afraid she's miscalculated, that she'd gone too far, but then she felt Scrooge's arm

"You're welcome, Lena," he said, and if Lena didn't know better, she would have sworn that he sounded choked up.


End file.
